Things were getting kind of crazy around our apartment in San Francisco, we were gearing up for the birth of our new baby and I wasn’t making it down to LA as much as I would have liked to. Things were also very tough financially. I was selling a few jeans in San Francisco at trunk shows and at the street festivals and through word of mouth, but not enough. Christine was working as much as she could and she was paying our rent (and she was still taking on some pro bono work which was driving me crazy.) Then, in mid-March 2013 our baby was born “Gerard Kelly the 4th” a healthy half Mexican-American/half Irish young boy came into the world.

It was the happiest day of my life. I literally cried with joy. I was so thrilled. I really wanted a son that I could name after my grandad, my dad and myself and “Boom” just like that we had a baby boy and my lover had another Gerry Kelly to love. With another little guy to take care of, she couldn’t help me with Sonas as much as she used to. Although, she did work on Allen Senior’s slip and “fall in the piss” court case from her hospital bed just after a C Section in major pain. What a waste of time and effort that turned out to be. My lover was doing me a favor trying to help our friend with his case because no one else would take it on and I had literally begged her to.

Allen Senior

Allen Senior was in a ton of pain at this stage with his torn rotator cuff from slipping on the dog piss on the floor of his old house. He ended up getting surgery and was told by the doctors that it was possibly the worst tear that they had ever seen. Because we were still living in San Francisco, my father in law went down to help Allen Senior get out of the hospital and he brought him back to the Crenshaw studio where he lay on his bed for weeks in pain recovering. It was a serious operation and I sincerely believe that the painkillers he was on got the better of him, because he was never the same again after the surgery.

Also, things were getting pretty tense between us, plus it didn’t help that we were very low in funds and I couldn’t pay him anymore beyond paying his rent which we continued to do. When I was in San Francisco, I was getting calls from the Crenshaw neighbors telling me that Allen was threatening them with a bat in the back yard. This were getting very stressful. Building a business with limited funds is tough enough, especially when you’re a creative without the best business background. Allen was also a creative. I definitely realized then, that two creatives working together without a good business minded partner is a recipe for disaster. Plus I can be pretty stubborn myself which definitely didn’t help. Allen didn’t believe in marketing or branding, he’d say to me, “marketing-smarketing.” He was old school. All he wanted to do was knock on doors and I was getting doors slammed in my face constantly, which was pretty demoralizing. Back in the day, Allen would drive around with three models that were his salesgirls and a car full of pants, which was very different than today. Back then, he could literally sell jeans on the spot. Those days have changed. These days, this business is all marketing and branding as any muppet can knock you off. Our time with Allen Senior as a business partner was drawing slowly to an end. I have to admit he was and still is one hell of an amazing creative fashion designer and I learned a lot from him. You never know, we could still do some work in the future together on a consulting basis. We really should have been living in LA and meeting the right people to make this happen.

Our Move to LA

I decided that, for us to take Sonas to the next level we had to move to LA for a few years to take care of the production of jeans ourselves and to build relationships with the right people. If you’re building a fashion brand, LA or NY are the places to be. (Mind you, one of our advisors and dear friend “Susy” had told us to do this long before Gerard Junior came along, but I guess I wasn’t ready then to listen.) After a lot of convincing and promising that it is temporary, my wife agreed to the move, although she certainly wasn’t happy about it. She hated the hot weather and “water” of LA, among other things. It was a huge move for us. My wife had lived in SF for 22 years and didn’t want to move to LA and was very vocal about it. San Francisco was her home, where she shaped herself and her practice. All her friends were there too who had grown up with her through her twenties and were there beside her. I was attached too. I had lived in San Francisco for fourteen years and loved it, it was our home, all our friends were there, I knew SF well and I always felt safe there. At the same time, I also knew that to make this work we had to move to the denim capital of the world, LA. I gave in our notice to our landlords and the whole move was done in the space of one month. It was brutal, the amount of stuff you accumulate over time is outrageous, thank God for my wife (yet again). I went into total analysis paralysis mode. There was so much crap that we had to move, I didn’t know what to do, it was horrible. She totally took charge and made shit happen.

We had a lot of our good friends and family come by and help us. It was heartwarming. Thank God and thanks to our wonderful friends, we stuffed a 20 foot Penske truck full to the brim with everything we owned and then filled the car up just the same.

We had to paint the apartment back to its original color and clean it from top to bottom to get our deposit back. They had taken a double deposit from us due to credit issues when we originally got the apartment, so we had to make sure the place was sparkling clean. I’ll never forget it, the last night in our apartment, we were up till 4am cleaning. Everyone else had left by 11pm and my in-laws had our little guy at Christine’s Aunty Mary’s place down in South San Francisco. It was just Christine and I in a completely empty apartment. It was a sad evening. We sat up talking about all the parties we had in that home, guests who stayed over and visited, and all the love too. It was where our little guy was conceived. We were leaving a lot. Without even a bed to sleep on, we turned the heating on full blast and curled up together on the moving blankets and went to sleep for the last night in our San Francisco home. The next morning, we left San Francisco on a cold foggy morning driving out of our apartment from our SF home on the top of the hill in NOPA. Our landlord upped the rent on our home from $2450 to $4200 - some young techie couple had put a deposit down before we had even left. We drove up to our new home in a quiet green suburb of LA at 6pm on August 14, 2014. My wife was already crying because of the heat that filled her car the moment she opened her door. Moving to LA with your wife who doesn’t really want to move there and your 1.5-year-old baby boy when you’re broke and don’t really know anyone is no fucken joke. There was one highlight...which really proved to show through later...thank God Christine’s family was close. I won’t deny it, it was one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. I’ll never forget it, I drove the 20 foot Penske truck full to the brim with a combined 36 years of personal belongings from SF to LA on a Thursday evening in August 2014 and after some rest we emptied out the truck the following morning with the help of my brother in law and two nephews by 8am it was 80 degrees already and by 12pm it was 100 degrees. Christine (my wife) hates the heat and that was one of the reasons she didn’t want to move to LA, I like the heat but 100 degrees at midday is nuts. Eventually we got everything into our new bungalow and then crashed on the couch dying from heat exhaustion and our baby crying from the heat also. Little Gerard had beads of sweat all over his nose and forehead merely from just being in LA. I looked at all the full boxes in our new home in a suburb of LA thinking to myself “what the fuck have I just done”.

Lessons I learnt from this stage of my life

The day my son was born was the happiest day of my life.

Two creatives don’t work well together as business partners unless you have a good business person on the team.

You’ve gotta move to where the action is, and LA is definitely the place for Fashion.

My buddy Noel Ruane from Dublin called me up to see if we could help out a young software developer called Allan Dixon who had been working for him in Ireland. Allen was coming over to the US to try to get a job from an eccentric billionaire in Beverly Hills called Alki David and needed a couch to sleep on for a few days.Allan was cool. He was a young Irish guy, full of energy and out to make a name for himself. After sleeping on our couch for a few nights in San Francisco, I brought him to LA and he went on a mission to find and speak to billionaire Alki David that he been stalking from Ireland for some time. After a bit of communication on Twitter between Allan & Alki David's girlfriend, we drove over to Beverly Hills to Alki's store/studio and young Allan rocked up to the front door looking for a job with me behind him with a video camera. Of course, he sent out his young gate keepers to tell us he wasn't available but Allan persisted and got to meet him and pitched him an idea. It turned out Alki wasn't interested in what Allan was offering but offered him a job coding which Allan turned down.Young Allen came to be known as "Allan Junior," merely because we needed to distinguish him from older Allen, our legendary veteran designer. Older Allen was "Allen Senior."

So, Allan Jr. then asked if he could stay with us for a while and offered to help us with the marketing of Sonas. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to Ireland. My wife and I said it was cool for him to sleep on our couch for a while which actually turned into 5 months. As if I didn't know already, I learned once again that my wife is extremely patient. With Allan Jr. taking over our living room, my wife and I were relegated to the bedroom. But hey, that's how our baby came along! Actually, as a funny side story, when my wife told Allen Jr that she was pregnant, he congratulated her and then immediately said he was bummed that he'd have to find another place to live in 9 months! I also told Allen Senior that young Allan Junior would be crashing in our Sonas Crenshaw studio for a few weeks. Allan Senior was not happy about this at all. The last thing he wanted was some young Techie dude staying with him. The way I saw it was, we needed help building our company. Building a brand isn't easy, especially on a seriously limited budget and not much marketing experience. I'll take all the help I can get and Allan Jr. had a lot of great ideas and helped us with our website, look book, line sheets etc... As usual, I was raising investment and was having a hard time and Allan Junior came up with a fun interesting idea to help raise some awareness. "Why not make a fun video of a guy literally hitting the streets looking for investors in Silicon Valley?" "Fuck it, I'm in," I said. I'll try anything. So we made a short video called "Hustle Like F$@k" see link to video here. We didn't get any investment but we did get some notice, a few sales and a lot of weird looks.Allan then left the US to go to Canada briefly. Needless to say, our dear Allan Junior had issues getting back through immigration and got banned from the US for 5 years. But that didn't stop him. He then went on to Australia and won the Australia's Greatest Job competition and we got our living room back.

Lessons I learned from this stage of my life.1. Twitter is a great tool for reaching out to people who you may otherwise have issues getting too.2. My wife is extremely patient and is the best supporter I could possibly wish for.3. You don't always have to have cash to get what you need. Bartering works if you have something (even if it's just a couch) to offer.4. No man is an Island, extreme dreams require extreme teams.

If you get a chance check out some of the new sections on our website through this link.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15722725-chapter-23-sundance-film-festival-our-friend-henry-a-chance-meeting-with-janice-dickinson2017-01-10T13:47:00-08:002017-02-22T11:12:38-08:00Chapter 23 - Sundance Film Festival, Our Friend Henry & A Chance Meeting with Janice DickinsonGerry Kelly
While at our good friends’ wedding in Northern California, I got speaking to a friend of ours, Henry Molloy, a money manager with a pretty amazing track record. Henry’s not the type of guy you’d mess around. He fought and beat one of the toughest boxers in the Hell’s Angeles for the Diamond Belt Championship in 2008. He’s a straight to the point, no bullshit type of guy. A “go getter.” I love chatting with him about big ideas. I told him about our vision for Sonas and what was going on. He asked me what I needed to take it to the next level and I told him I needed celebrity endorsements and brand awareness. Henry agreed to take us to the Sundance Film Festival to promote our jeans at another gifting suite.

A few weeks later, Christine & I drove from San Francisco to Nevada and stayed overnight with Henry and his girlfriend in Incline Village. Then, the following morning, we caravanned over 600 miles to Park City, Utah. Henry and his girlfriend (now fiance) drove in their SUV. They were well used to the snow having been living in the Tahoe Area. My wife and I drove in our packed out 2003 BMW that was full of jeans and marketing material. We didn’t know BMW’s had rear wheel drive which became very relevant when we attempted to put chains on our tires later in this story. The four of us stayed together in a two bedroom apartment that was included in the gifting suite deal.

The morning of the first day of the event, Christine and I drove up to the hotel/venue watching the snow fall, heavier and heavier….and the wind became stronger. Some people call those things blizzards. As we slid off to the side of the road on the steep turn ascending our way up the mountain to the hotel, we decided it was time to put the chains on. I got out and put the chains on the front tires, bad move. We were in a major rush, so I put the boot down and the car went in all angles! It was nuts. Other cars coming down the hill had to swerve out of our way. I had no control of our car. Holy shit man! I thought our trip to Sundance was going to end there and then - off the cliff into snow. Suddenly, we ended up in a small ditch, stuck in heavy snow. Thank God for my lover! She saw that the back wheels were spinning and got out and wrestled the chains off the front ones and onto the back wheels (which was not easy in a blizzard). Then we dug the snow out with our hands. It was a nightmare! I’ll never forget that episode of bonding in the snow storm as long as I live.

We eventually made it up to the event and parked our car and brought in our jeans, mannequins, banners etc… I over heard one guy in the lobby say to the concierge “Holy shit Man, did you see those nut cases in the California registered BMW!? They nearly caused a pile up down there.” I kept my head down and couldn’t help but laugh my ass off after hearing this guy. Just hearing that alone made it all worth while :)

The gifting suite was in a big marquee that was leaking for the first few hours with the heavy snow fall. Our jeans were in boxes that got soaked. I was expecting some A listers but it was 90% C list celebrities that came through all looking for free swag. All saying that they loved our product and would love to help us promote etc, etc….. Which they didn’t. But at the time I was new to this. People will say anything to get some free jeans. But in my mind, all it takes is one cool influential celebrity that’s real and sincere that can change everything.

We made the most of it and had a bit of a laugh with the other vendors. Henry was standing next to our booth like our minder and was handing out flyers about his business asking folks if they had they thought about investing for retirement. It was hilarious! Here’s these guys there to get free gifts and then being asked what was their plan for retirement. I wish I had taken a few pictures of their faces after Henry asked them, it was priceless.

When the gifting suite finished at 5pm each day, I hit the streets handing out flyers about our jeans and then at night time the four of us went out to dinner and hit up a few bars and clubs etc…

We went to a few parties such as the “Twitter Party.” It was free drink and they had some big name DJ’s playing. I was pretty excited to go, but when we got there, the atmosphere was brutal. I made a note to self about hosting a future Sonas party at Sundance, a party with some real atmosphere.

Even though we didn’t get any business of of it, it was a learning experience about gifting suites, it was a fun trip, and we got to know Henry and his now fiancee Cara a lot better after spending five nights with them in the same apartment.

A few weeks later, I was back in LA working on our production and I heard about another gifting suite going on. I called them up the day before the event and offered them a few hundred bucks and some free jeans to take part. They accepted. Better to fill a space than to leave it empty.

I didn’t know what to expect at this event. I was only set up a few minutes and suddenly this pretty high energy crazy woman came speed walking over to our table with the paparazzi behind her taking photo’s etc…

She grabbed a pair of our Broadway Skinny jeans off our table and held them up in the air looking at them, then she told me she loved them and had to have them. To be honest, I didn’t know who she was, so I told her that it was only a sample and I’d send her a pair in a few weeks (after I googled her and thought it was worthwhile sending her a pair). She kept on asking me for them telling me she loved them but I wouldn’t give them to her. Ok she said, here’s my number and asked me to give her a call as soon as I have a new pair for her.

After she left, I “Googled” her and realized that it was Ex Super Model “Janice Dickinson” who is pretty big in Fashion. And to say the least, know’s her shit. Damn, I thought. I should have given her that pair.

About two months later when our production was finally ready, I gave her a call back and explained it was Gerry (the Irish Guy) with the unique patchwork jeans. Straight away she said, “OMG I love those jeans please send them on” and gave me an address to send them to. So we mailed a pair to her office the day we were leaving for Ireland for the Christmas holidays.

While back in Ireland I sent her a few messages on Facebook asking if she had received the jeans and got no reply back. So one night I came home pretty late and decided to give her a call on her cell. She never answered, so I left a message asking if she got the jeans and telling her that I had sent a few messages through Facebook.

The following day, I got up late and my mum said to me “Gerard, a woman called Janice Dickinson called. She never got your jeans and she doesn’t do Facebook.” It was hilarious.

About three weeks later we were back in LA for work, and I called her again. She told me they never arrived and could I send on another pair. I told her that I didn’t want to send another pair in the mail as they were expensive but would drop them off to her assistant at her office. She then said to me, ok then, come out to my house tonight at 7pm with the jeans, here’s my address.

So that evening, I packed a bag full of jeans and drove out to her house. On the way, I stopped at a Best Buy to pick up a camera, as the camera on my windows phone was broken. The Best Buy assistant assured me that I would have no issues with the camera and it was ready to go.

I got to Janice’s house at about 6.50pm. It was a beautiful house in the Canyon in Beverly Hills. I must admit, I was a bit nervous. I had the jeans nice and neat ready to show her and I took the camera out of the box and put it together ready for some great shots. I turned it on, it opened and then said “Re-Charge” and then closed.

I thought to myself “OH Shit” what am I going to do without a camera? It was just about 7pm now so I knocked on her door and went in. She was there with her assistant (a super friendly cool girl my age) and a gay English dude who I think was some type of PR agent by the way he was talking.

Immediately she said, “Ok, so what have you got?” I answered, “I’ve got the sexiest, best fitting most jeans on the planet.” She then gave me this stern look and said, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

So I put the bag on her kitchen table and she told me to turn around while she changed. About a minute later she said “OMG” these jeans are amazing, I love them and started posing against her wall. She then said, “ok take some photos.” I said, I don’t actually have a camera. “You come into my house with some jeans and don’t even bring a camera?” I then explained the story to her and she was cool. We ended up getting her assistant to take the photo’s and then she emailed them to me.

She then asked me about our brand, how I got into the business etc. I told her our story and she loved it. She offered to do a free photo shoot with us on the beach in Malibu which we did about three weeks later.

Lessons I learned from this stage of my life

There are some genuinely nice celebrities out there willing to help. Janice Dickinson is super cool and she knows fashion.

Try to get into some gifting suites for a small amount of money and some trade. Better to fill a space than to leave it empty. Haggle and be prepared to walk away from any deal.

Building and developing friendships is super important, even though it’s not making sales.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15514257-chapter-22-fit-models-sales-rep-s-celebrity-gifting-suites2016-12-30T21:06:00-08:002017-02-22T11:12:38-08:00Chapter 22 - Fit Models, Sales Rep’s & Celebrity Gifting SuitesGerry Kelly
The next thing we needed to do was to basically start from scratch on proper patterns and grading and get all our women’s jeans fitted properly. I had never got our jeans fitted before as I was only working with men's jeans. I was the fit model! If they fitted me I was happy. So it was time to do things the right way and make them “Nordstroms ready,” as Allen said. It wasn't that I didn't want to do proper fittings, I just never knew it had to be done. As I mentioned before we used to have blankets of patches sewn up by some Chinese women in downtown SF and then take the blankets over to the denim factory who would cut the jean pattern out of the blanket and then sew up the jeans.

I had never before considered shrinkage, different denim weights, stretch or non stretch into the denim equation. It was an eye opener. I had even gone out and bought approx 5000 yards of super-heavy and all different types of denim. What a waste of money. (Don’t worry my wife doesn't let us waste any denim. She makes greeting cards and bags and wallets etc out of it).

Before I had met Allen, I actually drove to LA and bought approx 1200 yards of left over denim from a denim factory in LA. The guys didn't know what to make of me. (They probably laughed their asses off as I drove off.) I was driving a Toyota Tacoma flatbed truck at the time. It was lashing rain and I had a tarp over the top of it to stop the denim from getting wet. Also, with the weight of the denim the bed of the truck was nearly scraping off the ground on Highway 5 all the way back to San Francisco. It was nuts. But all part of the learning experience.

When I arrived back in SF I had my buddy Grainger help me unload the huge rolls of denim from the truck and I stored it in his office, a graphic design studio on the second floor of a cool building on 6th and Market.

The problem with all this denim was it was all different weights. And so I learned that when using one pattern, you’re best to use one denim and know the shrinkage so all your jeans come out with the same fit. Consistency. Stores aren't going to buy jeans off you if they all fit different each time they order. It was another expensive lesson learned with my ad hoc MBA/Fashion degree from the School of Life.

One day while out with Allen in LA, we met a friend of his outside a wash house. (He was an ex designer from True Religion.) He took a good look at the jeans inside and out and recommended that we get some new patterns made and this time have the pattern maker individually have every patch put into the pattern. Not only was this an expensive process but it was also some serious work for the pattern maker, she had never made a 50 piece jean before, and it was also a lot of work for the cutter and sewer. Much more labor intensive than making sheets/panels of patches and cutting the pattern from that. But we went for it. We arrived to the pattern maker with a pair of our jeans with painters tape all over them showing her where we wanted the patches to join each other, she thought we were crazy.Anyway she worked with us and made up the patterns we needed. It was a nightmare getting them right. We then had Angel (our amazing sewer still with us today) make us up some samples and had them washed and dyed etc… The next thing was we had to fit them properly. Allen knew an amazing fit model called Jody. She was super cool and had worked with all the major denim companies in LA. She hadn't seen anything quite like our jeans before she told us. We ended up doing approximately four fittings with her. It was beginning to do my head in. Every time we went back, there was an issue with our jeans. Too tight here, too loose there... plus each visit cost a few hundred bucks. Which meant we needed new samples every time. Anyway, after four fittings we got it right! Our jeans finally fi the way we wanted them to fit! Even our pattern maker tried on a pair one day when we were in her office and secretly smiled in the mirror while looking at her ass in our jeans. Our next step was to get some samples made up and a small amount of production so we could start selling. Our first production run didn't come out the way we wanted them to and they took quite a bit longer than we had anticipated. With a jean that had over 50 pieces we couldn't use cotton thread. It just wasn't strong enough as we found out when people started telling us that there jeans ripped in all the main places. Another expensive lesson learned. We called into quite a few stores showing them our jeans, but a lot of the buyers wouldn't see us and quite frankly most who did see us weren't willing to take a chance on a new brand. We heard a lot of, “patchwork ain't for us” and some would say, “ok these are cool, what celebrities are wearing them? You need to get some press for our website etc….Come back to us when you get some good press.” Then, we ended up getting our jeans into a showroom! The sales rep talked a great game but she didn't perform at all, she took our check and didn't do squat. She kept on coming up with excuses after excuses and after two months, we took all our jeans back from her. As we were working on such a small budget, we didn't have a PR agent and I was trying to do all the marketing I could myself. We got a call from a lady in LA who ran an event called a gifting suite. I had never heard of such a thing before. Basically the gist of it is, around Oscar/Emmy/MTV Award times a lot of celebrities come to town for the awards. So PR Companies put on events usually in a fancy residence or large hotel convention rooms where brands etc… pay a lot of money and get to set up a booth and gift free swag to celebrities. You don’t actually know who’s going to attend.

You’re taking a chance, hoping some popular celebrities will come by your booth and like your products (jeans in my case) and will try them on and you get a photo with them wearing them. I ended up negotiating a spot at a gifting suite for some trade and a small amount of cash. I must admit it was all pretty new to me. We didn't meet what industry people refer to “A-Lister's” but we actually got to meet some really cool folks who are still in contact with today and have really helped us along our journey. It was tough to get people to try on jeans, they wanted them but didn't want to try them on. Mind you I told them if they didn't put them on they couldn't have them. Most people were pretty cool about it. They went into the bathroom and put them on for us. I guess they weren't used to that. Most of the booths had company representatives who didn't give a crap about what they gave out etc…. but for us, every pair of jeans was worth a lot of money. So we picked wisely. (And even rejected a few.) Lessons we learned from this stage of our journey.1) Spending a bit more time on research and speaking with some consultants could definitely save you more time and money in the long run. Don't go buying a load of material just because it's cheap.2) Don't just work with any sales rep's you meet, there's a lot of them who talk a lot of BS. Get to know them a bit first, do they really like your line, check out who they sell too and see what other lines the're carrying, do they compliment yours?3) Gifting suites can be good, if you get in at a good price. But don't just hand out free products to any Tom, Dick & Harry, do some research on people and make sure to get photos on the spot. Also negotiate with the producers, a lot of the time they have extra space and another brand handing out some free products is good for them.

P.S. Our women's jeans are now for sale in five of Margaret O'Leary's stores in San Francisco, Mill Valley, Burlingame, Berkeley & Venice Beach & Gitane Style Boutique in Menlo Park. Also our men's jeans are now sold at Famous Four Fashion Store in Mill Valley as well as Enda King in Venice Beach.

P.P.S. Sorry it's been a while since our last blog, my family and I made the big move to LA a few weeks ago to focus all our efforts on Sonas and we've been extremely busy.

Cheers

Gerry :)

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15514245-chapter-21-40-round-trips-driving-to-la-and-back-to-sf-in-one-year2016-12-20T20:59:00-08:002017-02-22T11:12:38-08:00Chapter 21 - 40 Round Trips Driving To LA And Back To SF In One YearGerry Kelly
We arrived back to San Francisco after our trip to Vegas. It was a costly trip, but another great learning experience about marketing, making appointments before trade shows, presentation, merchandising and on and on. Despite the meager orders we received, I was happy knowing that we now had some new contacts in LA in the garment business who were willing to work with us and help us perfect our product. Not many people wanted to take on such a complicated jean with over 50 individual pieces and it just so different than what they were used too. Manufacturers like easy money, simple cuts, and our jeans require some serious attention to detail, definitely not for everybody.

We had made a few jeans for “The Magic Trade Show” in Allen’s house which were ok but we knew we could do so much better when we weren't in such a major rush.

My next step was to do our production to LA and get some new jeans made there. It became a regular thing. I drove down nearly every week and stayed on Allen’s couch in a place called Sunland, not the coolest or nicest neighborhood in LA that’s for sure. It was about 30 miles from downtown LA but in my mind, that was a lot closer than San Francisco :)

Allen was sharing a house with two girls, whom were both called Nicky and both had dogs that pissed and shat all over the house. It was crazy. One morning, Allen came out of his room in his underpants and bare feet to get a glass of water from the kitchen and slipped in dog’s piss and hit the floor like ton of bricks, BOOM!!!!

He ended up being taken away in an ambulance with a seriously bad torn rotator cuff. No joke for a 70 year old guy trying to work on his dream of retirement. During the time he worked with us, Allen was in a lot of pain and definitely wasn’t in full spirits.

But despite his obstacles, Allen kept working with us on the jeans. I gotta give the old man credit, he’s as tough as nails.

Things weren't working out in the house in Sunland between Allen and his roommates (especially after the fall) so we had to find alternative housing for both of us, as I was coming down to LA nearly every two weeks and needed a cheap place to crash.

So we went on a mission looking for a place near downtown as a live/work space that could be used as a show room. Allen found a spot. It was in the hood but it served it purpose. It was only $750 a month and had two parking spots and was on a busy road. It was on Crenshaw and Jefferson. I think we were the only white guys in the neighborhood. It was an old laundrette that was in need of a major makeover. The landlord was an older Korean guy who didn’t care what went in there. All he wanted was his rent check.

We cleaned it out and I had some of my friends come down from San Francisco to help us put in a shower and also some new lights and a new pergo floor. It looked great! I think we did everything for under a grand, it was amazing. To get in a contractor it would have cost about $10K. So now, we had a new place to live that was close to where we needed to be. Although we didn’t leave the studio after 8pm (for fear of getting robbed) it worked just fine. One Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, I was woken up by Allen at about 3am. “Gerry there’s some guys smoking crack at the front door!” I was still half asleep. “So what dude,” I said, “just leave them alone.” “No way man, they gotta go!” The last thing I wanted was to get in an argument with some local crack heads. Anyway, Allen opened the front door like a man possessed, with me terrified standing behind him. He first asked them nicely to get off the door step and move away from the front of the door. They gave him a look as if to say, “screw you.” Then Allen lost it! He started screaming at the top of his voice, “Get the Fuck outta Here!” It was nuts. I thought that was it. We were both going to get shot. But as messed up and crazy as the crack heads were, they didn’t know what to make of this crazy old white guy, so they left. There was a lot of abuse shouted back and forth but they moved on.

It turned out that there was a shitty residential hotel across the street which was full of hookers, junkies, pimps and other undesirables.

I think the word spread about some crazy old white guy living in the old laundrette who was up for an argument, so they kept away from the front of the studio for the most part, but every now and then there was some heated arguments with Allen and the crackheads. I came back to LA after a few weeks in SF and Allen had set up a big flood light that he would turn on anytime anyone who hang around too close to the door. Anyway, it seemed to work and deter the local wackos from hanging around outside our front door.

At least we now had a place that was only a 10 minute drive from where we needed to be. It makes such a big difference when you’re close to your work and can stay on top of what’s going on. Now, all we needed to do was make some new jeans and start selling them. Sounds easy, right. Boy was I in for a shock.

Lessons I learned from my travels to LA:1. It’s super important to be beside your work/manufacturing.2. You gotta make buyer appointments before you go to any trade shows.3. Making jeans is one thing, selling them is another.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15514233-chapter-20-three-of-the-most-inspirational-people-in-my-life2016-11-23T20:56:00-08:002017-02-22T11:12:39-08:00Chapter 20 - Three of the Most Inspirational People In My LifeGerry KellyI got to admit that I really didn't know what to expect when I started writing my personal blog. To be honest, I was a bit nervous. Now, twenty chapters in and really enjoying it and getting some amazing feedback from our readers, I decided to celebrate our 20th blog by writing about three amazing people who have had a huge influence on my life.

# 1. My Dad, Gerry Kelly Snr, aka Olympic GerryAs the eldest of 11 kids, 7 brothers and 3 sisters, growing up on the North Strand in inner City Dublin, he’s a die hard Dub with a big heart.

He’s always working hard. When I was young, he had three jobs: a taxi driver, a school teacher in a boys high school and he also taught general education in a prison. In the midst of all this, he also went to school a few nights a week to study law and then he became a Lawyer.

He was either always working or working out. He wasn't called Olympic Gerry for nothing. When he wasn't working, he was running or cycling. He didn't give a fuck, hail, rain or snow. He’d be up at 6am and out the door by 6.30am. He was and still is crazy about sports, just to give you an example. I remember one time I took his car out for a rally with three of my friends. There was no stereo in the car so we had a ghetto blaster in the back seat pumping out some Bob Marley and I was doing as many burnouts and donuts as I could in a local forest. I was driving as fast as I could in reverse and pulling up the emergency brake and spinning the car around. Then, I lost control and hit a tree.

The trunk of the car was nearly in the front seat. To say the least, there was quite a bit of damage. I dropped off two of the lads and drove home with my good friend Keith to explain to my dad what had happened. He told me to be quiet as he was in the middle of watching the match (a football game) and would look at it later. Most people would have ran out the door immediately to check on their car, not him. I then left the house and came back a few hours later and asked him what he thought of the damage to the car. He still hadn't seen it and was still watching sports on the TV.

Then, he went to look at it and as he opened the front door he saw two of our neighbors talking on the street, so he turned around and closed the front door and never ended up seeing the damage till the following morning. Fuck, that was a long day and night. When he did see it, all he said was “Negligence, Pure Negligence,” in a pissed off voice and then never said another word about it, ever again.

He’s got to be one of the easiest going people I know. Some people say he’s crazy. I guess that’s where I get it. I remember he came home one time with a few drinks on him and a bus stop on the roof of the car, which is still in our back garden in Ireland to this day.

In 2006, I was doing a long distance run through the Sahara Desert in Morocco and my dad told me that he would come and meet me there, I told him it wasn't possible and he raised his eyes to heaven and said, I’ll see about that. I thought he was joking, as there was no way of finding us in the middle of the Sahara Desert (the route wasn't shared) and no spectators allowed. Anyway, the old man wasn't going to let that stand in his way. He flew my Mum, Uncle and himself to Marrakesh in Morocco, then rented a 4x4 Jeep and hired a Moroccan guy to drive them to a small town in Morocco and scouted out some local tribes men and hired them to drive the Jeep into the middle of the Sahara. It was fucken nuts. I was resting in a tent with five other guys when I heard one of the organizers asking, “does anyone know what tent Gerry Kelly is in?” I went outside to see what was going on and low and behold there was my Mum, Dad & Uncle in the middle of the Sahara Desert. My mum was standing there wet with sweat, nearly melting with a large bottle of Gin in one hand and a book in the other. “Here’s a small gift for you Gerard.” It was surreal. I wasn't allowed to take the gifts but, it was the thought that counted. If there’s one thing I could say about my dad that I will always admire, it’s that he’s a man of his word, if he says he’s going to do something, he’ll do it.

#2 Daithi Donnelly aka Big D - From Boat Party Raves to Some of the Busiest Most Popular Bars in San Francisco.

Daithi Donnelly: a confident, charismatic, hardworking, supportive friend and visionary leader and a straight up no bull shit guy.

We used to work together in the Irish Bank Bar and Restaurant in downtown San Francisco, before he teamed up with another Irish guy and they bought a sketchy old gay bar on the worst Street in San Francisco, 6th Street between Mission and Market and turned it into a popular destination bar famous for late night and after hours parties.

It took some balls and a serious vision to open a bar on stinky 6th Street back in 2000, actually anytime for that matter. I remember he used to pound the pavement in search of a premises to build a bar. He’d come into work in the Irish Bank and would be telling me about some of the shifty and slippery old bar owners that he was meeting and the lies they were telling him. He was a man on a mission, and wouldn't take no for an answer. It was unbelievable to watch things grow from their original bar “Anu” on 6th Street to opening some of the busiest and most successful bars in San Francisco such as Swig, Bourbon and Branch and a high end liquor store called Cask and then The Rick house. I don’t think he ever got to see the opening of the Rick House.

Dahi was the original founder and true visionary behind The Future Bar Group in San Francisco. It’s pretty sad really that you don’t get to hear much about the true visionary behind The Future Bar Group because Dahi, a healthy, bike riding, non smoker, had the misfortune of getting lung cancer in 2009 at the young age of 34 and the peak of his career. He was a charismatic, confident, streetwise, smooth talking Entrepreneur.

He didn't give a fuck who you were or where you were from. If you were real and sincere you’d get along with him. He had friends from all walks of life fly in from all corners of the world for some of the parties he’d throw.

I’ll never forget one time in 2000, Dahi invited me along to a wine tasting event where he was doing a presentation about some South American wines. He said, Gerry, come with me to this event, it will be a bit of craic, there’ll be lots of free wine.

I was blown away. There he was in the middle of all these wine buffs twice his age talking like a sommelier (an expert on wine) holding the crowd spellbound with his charismatic personality.

I think he just brought me along to go on a good rip afterwards. It was hilarious. I wasn't much into wine. Then towards the end of the event he introduced me to some pretty serious wine buffs. I think he knew they would be quizzing me about wine. This preppy looking heavy set guy in khaki shorts and a polo top slides over closer to me on the couch I was sitting on and turns to me and says, “so Gerry, what’s your favorite wine and region?” I guess he was expecting a pretty interesting lengthy discussion on wine. I’ll never forget his face when he heard my reply “Ah, to be honest, I’m pretty easy going, I’ll drink anything.” I remember Dahi giving me a sneaky grin and winking at me. The guy didn't know what to make of me, it was hilarious. That’s Dahi for you, no BS, he didn't put on an act around anyone.

I remember Dahi would say, “Gerry you’re in America, if you've got a vision, drive and some balls you can do anything here, just remember, start small and build on it.” Dahi passed away just over a year after he was diagnosed with lung cancer. There’s so many great stories myself and many others could tell about him, maybe one day a group of us will get together and write a book about him.

#3 Christine Garcia aka “My Lover” or The Animal Rights Attorney

My amazing passionate, happy, generous, loving, supportive wife Christine Garcia. I met Christine over 8 years ago when she was looking to buy a house. She answered one of my guerrilla marketing ads, a big ugly yellow sign in the middle of Lincoln Ave, a main road in San Francisco. She never actually bought the house and we never actually met in person, but we got on great over the phone and e-mailed regularly for three months. How we actually met each other in person one day is a bit of a crazy/fun/chance meeting story, which I will tell another time. But it was fate.

Christine has changed my life for the better in so many ways. Christine was a Corporate Attorney for the first two years of her practice from 1999 to 2001, specializing in mergers and acquisitions making great money.

After a getting her second speeding ticket within one year for driving over 100 miles an hour, she was sent to Level III, Serious Offenders Traffic School by Commissioner Bloom in Hayward and ordered to serve 80 hours of community service at the San Francisco Animal Shelter. There, Christine was so shocked and disgusted to learn about some of the animal cases that were brought into the shelter. And seeing people get off with a slap on the hand. She decided there and then that something needed to be done to bring attention to the plight of animals and defend them.

For a while she did pro bono animal work on top of her other firms job, but after a while, it was too much to do both. A choice had to be made. She never went back to her corporate attorney position, but instead decided, that she would become a full time Animal Rights Attorney, a voice for the voiceless. So for the past 14 years, she has fought tooth and nail to saves the lives of hundreds of animals that would be dead otherwise. Defending activists too.

I gotta give her so much credit for doing the things that she does. She goes to court to fight for the lives of so many dogs that are on death row for allegedly biting people or some just for growling at people. She has to deal with the most disgusting horrible evil people there are. Assholes who want the dogs dead. It’s a constant battle for her. She literally fights for the underdog and believes that if you are going to put your life and sweat into your work, you better do something you believe in.

Sometimes when I get stressed out about work and money etc… she always say’s “That 9-5 grind job to pay the bills and live is always out there, but you are going for your dreams, and that’s more important.” Which is so true. It really makes me think, there’s always a job to be found, but if you give up on your passion and dreams you may never find them again. Or you’ll always be wishing you went after them or gave it a try.

Lessons I learned from these amazing people1. Stepping out of the box is crucial if you want to excel and go beyond the status quo. 2. If you've got a vision, drive and some balls you can do anything, just remember, start small and build on it. 3. Spending your time and labor doing something you believe in is important, because time goes by fast, and before you know it, life has passed you by while you might be working on someone else’s dream..

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15514217-chapter-19-magic-clothing-convention-team-players-patched-jean-car-covers2016-10-19T20:51:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:39-08:00Chapter 19 - Magic Clothing Convention, Team Players & Patched Jean Car CoversGerry Kelly
A week later the patterns for five new jeans arrived at our apartment, everything from High waisted flare to Ultra skinny jeans. It was my job to get all the samples made in the next three weeks so everything would be ready for The Magic Clothing Convention, which was only four weeks out. I brought the patterns, denim and all the trimmings to our local denim factory in San Francisco. I was told they would be ready in a week, but as usual, when you’re a small fish you’re left on the back burner so to speak. One week turned into two weeks which then turned into three. Allan was calling me each week asking me what was going on with the samples etc… I, in turn, kept calling our denim factory and they kept saying, it will be ready shortly. It was really beginning to stress me out as we desperately needed to have some type of a fashion line going to Vegas - our usual two jeans were not going to cut it.

On the Wednesday before the event, I called down to see if our jeans were ready. I could see the patterns and denim sitting in the same exact spot from the previous week. I was livid. I called Allan and told him the story. He said, “ok, drive down to LA in the morning and meet me at my house.” 3am the next morning, I drove to LA like a bat outta hell with all the patterns and denim etc.. I got to his place at about 8am.

The first thing I saw when I arrived at Allans house was a car that was covered over with a patched jean car cover which I thought was pretty trippy. I must be in the right place.

We worked all day in his house cutting up the denim to make sure the patchwork looked the way we wanted it to. That day and night we designed nine pairs of jeans in his house. Now we had some variety! We had a collection =) We didn't have the time to do everything we wanted, but we had a small line that was a lot cleaner than what we originally had.

The following morning, we went to downtown LA and met Angel (Allan’s friend) our Mexican sewer, a super reliable, nice, honest, hard working guy.

Angel worked with us all weekend long, sewing up the jeans. I couldn't believe it. The BS and stress I was going through in San Francisco to get some jeans made and I come to LA, and bang, over a few days everything is made.

I stayed in LA all weekend working with Allan and Angel. By Sunday, all our jeans were sewn up. Now all we needed was the finishing touches, trimming, pressing and hardware.

I left all the jeans with Allan and I drove back to San Francisco on the Sunday evening as I was flying out to Vegas on the Monday morning at 6am with my wife and three models who we were bringing to Vegas to help us promote: Mataisse, Lawrence and Anna. We were meeting Allan there with all the pressed and finished jeans!

Yet again, we got to the trade show the day of the event and had to scramble to set everything up. We shared our booth with a girl I knew from San Francisco: Hilary from Hillside Bags. Hilary and her mum were promoting bags and we were promoting jeans. It was pretty funny, we had two very different groups, on one side of the booth was us (a motley crew of models, a young couple and a 70 year old designer in sun glasses) and on the other side of the booth: Hillary and her mum. Hillary and her mum were pretty chilled out and we were there to make some noise - guerrilla marketing style.

We were set up in a show called “Pool Trade Show.” Pool is a smaller trade show (part of The Magic Clothing Convention) mainly for fashion and accessory start ups.

This time we arrived with 3000 flyers and immediately went to war putting them everywhere. We even put them in all the trade show magazines that were being given out to all attendees. Security came over to our booth with Anna (our beautiful Russian model who was really pretty shy and very honest) as if she was under arrest. “We caught your model putting flyers in our trade magazines” the security guard said. I gave him the “Gold Fish” look, as if to say, and ????

Yet again, we got told off by the authorities - no more flyers allowed. Fuck that, I thought, we still had about 2500 flyers and we weren't about to take them back to San Francisco with us. As soon as security was out of sight, I told Anna to get back out there and put the flyers out. Anna gave me the puppy dog look and begged me “no Gerry please, not again.” Allan didn't know what to make of me either.

Ok, I said, don’t let Lawrence or Matisse know that security were here. I called Lawrence and Mataisse back and told them that we needed to get all the flyers out ASAP, it has to be done today.

They put them everywhere, it was classic. Then at about 4pm, security came back to our table and this time were not so easy going. One guy took my badge off me and took a photo of it and gave me some BS power trip crap about getting me thrown out of the trade show for some code violation. I told him with genuine sympathetic eyes, I was sorry and it wouldn't happen again. He told me they would be back with his boss. I never saw them again. We still had about 1000 flyers left and ended up putting them on every slot machine, bar table, restroom stall, night club table and wherever else we could. I then got a message on my voice-mail that night from the hotel security telling me to come down to the front desk at the Mandalay Bay Hotel about all the flyers everywhere. I gave that a miss and never heard anything again.

Over the three days, we had a few people check out our jeans. We didn't get any orders, but we had a lot better reception than our last event and learned a lot more. We went out to a few parties that were put on by the organizers of Magic it was mainly to network and spread the word about Sonas.

I think Allan felt sorry for us, yet again, we were trying everything to get people to come to our booth. He started bringing over buyers that he would meet walking around in other parts of the convention. I guess when you're in your 70’s and you approach people, you get a bit more respect than young models with flyers. Good on him. He tried everything in his power to help us.

I remember calling into his room later that evening to see if he was up for a beer and he was wearing a “True Religion” t-shirt and had crossed out “True Religion” with a big black sharpie and wrote Sonas across it instead. That was a great memory reminding me that people, aside from my wife, believed in me and my goals.

Lessons I learned from that stage of my business:1. You need a team, you can’t do everything yourself. Extreme dreams require extreme teams.2. Before you go to any trade show make sure that you call as many buyers as possible and set up appointments to meet them there.3. LA is the denim capital of the world, if you’re designing fashion denim LA is the place to be.4. Patience and persistence. You just gotta keep on keeping on. ]]>
https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15507837-chapter-18-fred-segal-nordstroms-and-divine-intervention2016-09-15T20:34:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:40-08:00Chapter 18 - Fred Segal, Nordstroms and Divine InterventionGerry KellyThe following week we were back in San Francisco and I was licking my wounds. I gotta admit, I was a bit depressed after spending a lot of money on the LA show and not even one order to show for it.

Then, I got a call from an LA number I didn’t recognize. I heard an old mans voice on the end of the line. It was a guy called Allan Chevalier. His first words were, “Hi my name’s Allan Chevalier. You’ve probably never heard of me, but back in the 70’s and 80’s I had some very successful womens’ fashion lines. I did a lot of work with Nordstroms, I Magnin’s, Joseph Magnin’s, Fred Segal and many other better womens’ boutiques. I was the first designer to work for Fred Segal where I designed women’s jeans and pants. I then went out on my own and my partner was the head of the Chinese sewers union in San Francisco in 1974 & 75, and we had 131 sewers working for us.” Then he said “without being too forward, you need help.”

I agreed with him and listened to what he had to say.He talked for about 30 mins telling me his life story and mentioned lots of names of people that he had worked with in the past. As he was talking, I was taking notes and writing out the names of the people he was talking about. At the end of our conversation, he said “I’ll never work for someone again, but I’ll work with someone on something I believe in. I really think you have something but you need help refining it.”

Then, he said, “I don’t have much money, but I have a lot of experience in design and I’d like to meet you.” I told him that I would call him back in two days after I made some inquiries.

As soon as I got off the phone, I started to google his name, and nothing came up. I googled all night. I then googled all the names of the people he had mentioned. Some people popped up. These guys were old school, so there really wasn’t much about them online.

So the next day, I called into a few of the older manufacturers that I had met in the City. “Have you ever heard of a guy called ‘Allan Chevalier?’” I asked Kieran from Skyblue.“Wow, that’s a name from the past,” he said. Then he said, “Gerry, Allan Chevalier was a legend back in 70’s and early 80’s. He used to design womens jeans and pants that were sold in all the major stores. He went off the scene a long time ago, no one really know’s the full story, but I think he died.”

He then said, “where did you hear his name from?” I said, “he called me last night.” Kieran gave me that, that’s weird and why the fuck would he call you look. He said “Seriously? He called you?”

I told him the story about the article in the California Apparel News and our phone call etc, etc…I then asked Kieran, “if Allan came to San Francisco would he mind if I brought him by, just to confirm he was for real?” Kieran was cool with that.

The following night, I called Allan back and told him that I would pay his gas money to drive from LA to San Francisco to see what he was all about and he could stay on my couch for two nights. I then told my wife that a 72 year old designer was going to be sleeping on our couch this coming weekend and as usual she was cool about it (although by day 5 she was rolling her eyes).Three days later an old 1978 Mercedes coupe pulled up outside our apartment and Allan ended up staying on our couch for five nights. He literally examined the jeans and the stitch work with a magnifying glass. He asked me a million questions about them, such as, had I thought about doing them in white? Had I thought about getting rid of the wings (the seams on the side)? Was I going to do a high waisted jean? Had I thought about doing them in softer colors? And many many more questions...

For the five days that he spent in San Francisco, all we did was talk fashion. We went to store after store after store checking out what was on offer. He would stop people in the street and get into conversations about the clothing they were wearing. I can safely say he knew fashion.

I told him that I had signed up for another trade show. This time, it was in Vegas and was for start up fashion companies. He asked me what I had planned on showing there and I showed him the same jeans that I showed at the LA trade show.

He told me that we needed at least ten jeans if we wanted buyers to take us serious. And so we went shopping. We got everything from denim shorts, skinny jeans, high rise flares, to hip huggers skinny’s and flares.

After five days of fashion 101-202 Allan drove back to LA with all the jeans we bought and said he would have his pattern maker make the patterns and we would use our unique Sonas aesthetic on them and fit them to our specifications. He loved our aesthetic and he was there to fine tune it.

Lessons I learned from this stage of my life:1. Have an open mind, you never know who you’re talking to.2. When you meet someone with lots of knowledge on your subject, soak up as much as you can, because you never know when you’ll get another opportunity to learn so much.3. He who dares wins. You gotta take risks now and then.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15507833-chapter-17-90-of-success-is-showing-up2016-08-10T20:25:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:40-08:00Chapter 17 - 90% OF SUCCESS IS SHOWING UPGerry KellyI thought to myself, “if I can sell two pairs of jeans at my first trunk show, imagine how many I could sell with the proper exposure and marketing.”

So, I went to trunk show after trunk show after trunk show, promoting Sonas and selling jeans. I would have gone to the “opening of an envelope” if it got me some exposure. I went anywhere and everywhere that I could, from the How Weird Festival in San Francisco to Jewish networking events.

I met great people nearly everywhere I went. At the How Weird Festival in SF, we met a cool guy called “Naphtali Rodriguez” who offered to help us with our branding for free, no strings attached, just a great guy who wanted to help us succeed.

Another time, I went to a meetup called “The JFE Network” which stands for “Jews for Entrepreneurship.” It was held at the Press Club in San Francisco - a pretty nice lounge off Market Street. On the way in the door, they asked me for my ID to make sure I was on their list. First, I had to explain to them that it was under my wife’s name “Christine Garcia” but my name’s “Gerry Kelly” so I showed them my ID and her credit card which I had used to buy the ticket with.

They never actually asked me if I was Jewish, but I’m sure they wondered as “Gerry Kelly” (nor does Christine Garcia) doesn't sound very Jewish and I don’t think the cross around my neck helped. Anyway, I went in and mingled about. Most people at the event knew each other. They were all suited up. It was as the usual Techie Guys, Real Estate Agents and Recruiters. I was in my original boot cut blue patchwork, burning man style jeans. Yet again, I got some weird looks, but I ended up meeting one cool girl called Esther who I am still in contact with and we have done some great events together.

I then enrolled in a five week fashion business class at the “Renaissance Entrepreneurial Center” in downtown San Francisco. I was in a class with ten girls, who all were out to start a fashion line. It was run by a women called Julie Arvan. Julie was one of the original employees at Gymboree way back when. She was full of great advice and told us some amazing success stories of people that she and her husband had worked with in the past. She was very encouraging.

Then, after that class, I took a fourteen week business planning course also in the Renaissance Entrepreneurial center.

It was a class full of Entrepreneurs, it was perfect. I loved it. You know, sometimes I have to stop myself from talking about jeans and my dreams around my friends as I’m sure they're sick of hearing about them, as I never shut up about them. But in a class full of Entrepreneurs, everyone is happy to hear your story and everyone is so encouraging. I’m still in contact with some great people from that class. We even hired “Laticia Headings” from the class to help us with our Indiegogo campaign. She’s amazing. I’m looking forward to doing a lot more work with Laticia as things progress.

After the entrepreneur course, I decided to sign up for a trade and trunk show in Los Angeles. The trunk show was on the Sunday and the trade show was Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday during the LA fashion week. It was called the Focus Trade Show and was held at the Los Angeles Fashion Mart in downtown Los Angeles in the fashion district.

My wife and I drove to LA with a car stuffed full with jeans, a big table and a male mannequin we called Larry after one of our friends Lawrence who modeled for us in the early days of Sonas. (Lawrence went on to model for the ipad and BMW after us, we like to think we had a role in his success!) We did the trunk show on Sunday, which was ok, but a bit disappointing to tell the truth. I don’t think people were ready for patchwork there.

Because we did the show on Sunday, we missed the deadline for the Trade Show setup and instead had to set up early on the Monday morning. We arrived at the Fashion Mart with boxes of jeans after spending about an hour in the LA traffic with no air conditioning. I had never been to a trade show before and thought it was the same as a trunk show but for wholesale. Oh Boy we had no idea. We had no line sheets (description of jeans, pricing, delivery date etc), no look books (photos of our jeans on models etc..) and hang tags that actually had “San Francisco” misspelled (but we didn't want to waste the paper). People didn't notice it spelled San Franciso.

We just had two styles of jeans and about fifty of each of them. I was wearing our blue flares, which was also on the Mannequin and on the table and hanging behind us. Christine was wearing one of our skirts which was the same color and fabric as my jeans, but a skirt. Thinking about it now, I can only imagine what the other fashion folks around us thought.

We wrestled the jeans, table and mannequin up to the top floor. Sweat was lashing off both of us. I was stressed out and as usual, my amazing loving supportive wife was so patient and positive.

There were about thirty other brands and multi line showrooms all sharing the same floor. This was the read deal. Every other brand had one or two professional models wearing their clothing. They also had amazing booths set up, beautiful look books and clean branding etc, etc….

Yet again, I tried everything to get people over to our booth, but buyers and store owners are a different kettle of fish. They gave us some nasty looks as if to say, “what the fuck are you doing here, stay away.” I remember one girl in particular from a store in the Newport Beach area, she gave a look as if there was a bad smell in the room and then said “eh….I don’t think so.” Yet again, I had that sick to my stomach feeling. Christine wanted to punch her out after I told her about it.

It was pretty depressing. Our first trade show, we spent a few grand to be there and we didn't get any orders or good feedback whatsoever. However, at about 4pm on the last day, Christine and I ended up in a conversation with a woman who was walking around the event. It turned out, we were getting married on the same day as her birthday and she also used to live in SF and was super friendly. She asked me what I thought of the show, so I told her it wasn't great for us…

Christine jumped in and said, it’s fine, it’s all about exposure anyway. Then she pulled out a camera and asked me to hold up a pair of jeans and she took a photo of me with our jeans in hand. She then told us that she was a writer for the “California Apparel News” and might write a small article about Sonas in their next issue……………… And she did!

Lessons I learned from our first trade show ever:

1. Get there the day before to avoid the stress of setting up the morning of.

2. Be prepared! Presentation is everything. If you are in the arena of fashion in particular, make sure you arrive with proper Look Books, Line Sheets, and a press packet…. Marketing materials.

3. Peer support helps. So attend lots of Entrepreneurial events. Other Entrepreneurs love to talk, listen and support other entrepreneurs.

4. A partner who supports your dreams is crucial and mandatory for any successful Entrepreneur.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15507829-chapter-16-from-patchwork-blankets-to-new-jeans2016-07-05T20:20:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:41-08:00Chapter 16 - From Patchwork Blankets to New JeansGerry KellyKieran at Skyblue told me to come back on a Saturday, when the factory was quiet, and he would take a look at my jeans. I went back the following Saturday, he looked at what I had, raised his eyes to heaven and basically told me that I had to redo everything from scratch.

Originally, I would wash two foot lengths of denim in my local launderette on a high temperature to pre-shrink the denim so there wouldn't be any shrinkage problems with all the different denims I was using. Then, we would cut it all up into 10” x 6” rectangles. My wife and I would then put them together on our living room floor in whatever pattern/design we desired. It was a crazy amount of work - we would work till 4 or 5 in the morning arranging the sequences. Later, I found a professional launderette that would pre-shrink the denim in 10 yard pieces and then another guy would cut it all. Kieran introduced me to a Chinese woman who agreed to sew the patches together into blankets. Once that was done, we brought the patchwork blankets over to Skyblue and they would cut the jean pattern out of the sewn blankets. My wife didn't like to waste anything, so all the scraps were made into greeting cards.

I remember I got a call from Skyblue to come down and collect my first sample from them. Kieran and the sample maker were used to making samples for Levis so you can imagine what they thought of my creation. It was a bit wild/busy - very different from what they were used too. I was excited and a bit nervous after my last experience. They pulled two pairs of jeans out of a box that they had in their office waiting for me. I was blown away! I loved them. I couldn't believe how cool they turned out. They had proper buttons and rivets on them also. I basically stripped down there and then and tried on both pairs. That was it. I was hooked. After the crap I went through with the last sample, this was a major step up for us. I think that they thought I wouldn't like it, but I was blown away. It was the real deal in my books. A real pair of unique patchwork jeans. Finally, my vision was coming to light.

I left Skyblue that day ecstatic and called over to a friend of mine “Dave Keane” also from Ireland. Dave was the only guy I knew that had any experience in fashion whatsoever. He had interned for a Summer at a fashion label ten years previous.

I told Dave my vision for Sonas and how I was going to start with jeans and shorts and then make jackets, skirts, t-shirts, hoodie tops, laptop cases and eventually cool fashion furniture all with a unique patchwork twist. Dave loved my vision which was very encouraging for me.

Then, Kieran told me that I should take a trip to a store called “AB Fits” in North Beach and speak to the owner “Howard” a cool Asian guy who’s been selling jeans for about 30 years. Howard looked me up and down. He then stood there thinking for a few minutes and then said, "yeah, I’d sell them." Howard told me that the denim business is a pretty snobby business and I was a breath of fresh air which he really liked.

I was super excited and put in an order for 100 jeans and then signed up for my first ever trunk show which was about six weeks away. I was told that it would take about two weeks for the jeans to be ready. Two weeks turned into three weeks, then four weeks, then five and then six. Fuck, I was freaking out thinking that they wouldn't be ready for the show. In the end, I picked up the jeans about 8pm the night before the event. I took them all home and tried on a pair. To cut a long story short, the jeans came out a lot smaller than I had planned. The 32’s were like 29’s the 30’s were like 27’s and the 34’s were like 32’s. I had made a lot more 32’s than any other size, since it's been the most popular size. So the sizing "issue" turned out to be a bit of a pain. (But a good learning experience.) The denim business is all about fit, fit, fit, fit.

The trunk show was held on the 6th floor of the Metreon Building in San Francisco. Along with my wife, Dave also came with us and helped us set up. We had a small table and a lot of jeans and flyers. I was so naive. I thought that everybody would rush our table and go crazy for our jeans. Fuck, was I in for a surprise and a rude awakening. I tried everything to sell our jeans. I stopped people inside and outside and would drag them over to our table. Some of the folks at the other booths were getting pissed off with me. I put flyers everywhere and I mean everywhere. I taped them to the front and back of the restroom doors, men’s and women’s. I taped them to the walls in the lift. I put them on the restaurant tables, everywhere you could think off I put them. At about 12pm security came over to our booth and told me that I had to stop, enough was enough.

We ended up making our first sale that day to a cool guy named Jason.

Lessons I learned from our first run ever:1) Make sure you check all your products before you leave the factory.2) If you're selling clothing, have a mannequin displaying your product it really helps.3) Put flyers everywhere, promote like fuck

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15507825-chapter-15-a-time-for-change-burning-man-and-patchwork-jeans2016-05-01T20:17:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:41-08:00Chapter 15 - A Time For Change, Burning Man And Patchwork JeansGerry KellySitting at my computer desk on a damp Monday morning in mid November 2010, I realized we were in serious trouble. As much as I wanted to stay positive and keep working on our Alabama real estate project, it was over. There’s an old saying that goes “there’s no point in flogging a dead horse” and Alabama was now a dead horse. We couldn't get the loan we needed and it was way too much of a financial drain to pay for the Alabama property to keep going each month. Also, we knew that the banks had completely changed their lending guidelines and wouldn't lend on our property anytime soon. Depressed and pissed off, we had no choice but to walk away after dumping everything we had into it. One bad real estate investment and our vision for our real estate empire was over. I was also day trading futures which was a sure way to send me to an early grave. Day trading futures is not for the faint of heart or beginners without deep pockets. So to put it bluntly, we were fucked.

I remember thinking to myself, "what have I got myself into" and feeling sick to my stomach and depressed about our whole situation. We had actually made some decent money in New York and now in the blink of an eye, it was gone. I was thinking "what am I going to do now?" I wanted to continue day trading futures but you can’t trade on “scared money“ (i.e. money that you need to pay your rent and live on). But there was no way I wanted to go back to work for someone else after working for myself for five years.

So I decided to throw away the get-rich-quick ideas and do something I was passionate about. One thing I do have a passion for is festivals, fashion and fun. I love meeting fun positive people with a passion for life and cool ideas. And what does every consultant tell an entrepreneur? Do what you are passionate about and focus on your strengths. So for my 9th year, I decided to go into the desert with my friends to “The Burning Man Arts Festival” - an amazing super creative fun festival that’s held each year in the desert just two hours outside of Reno, Nevada. In preparation for that year, I had a friend of mine (Sarah Decoux our local bartender/seamstress) help me cut and sew up three pairs of cool patchwork pants to wear out to the desert. A lot of our good friends meet there every year. Friends fly in from all over the world for one amazing fun filled week. If you haven’t been, I highly recommend you get your ass out there at least once in your lifetime :)

Sarah was great. Along with my wife and I, she helped us put the multicolored patchwork together on our living room floor, then her floor and then she sewed it all up. I was very particular and had a certain sequence that I wanted the colors to go in, so you can imagine how time consuming that was. It was probably the toughest $200 she ever earned. Also, there is over 50 individual pieces in each jean, it's by no way an easy jean to sew up, not even by denim professionals. My inspiration had come from an old pair of patchwork pants that I originally bought in a vintage store on Haight Street in San Francisco in 2001 for my first Burning Man. I wore those pants to every Festival, NYE Party and Burning Man I ever attended after that - any excuse at all and I wore them out. You could say I was emotionally attached to them. Not only did they bring back fun/happy memories from all the festivals and get together's I attended, but I also got married in them. They were/are my wife's favorite jeans on me and mine.

Every Time I wore them, I got great compliments from people who loved them and wanted to know where they could get theirs. I was always getting comments like, "cool jeans" "where did you get those pants" "when you do decide to make them, I’d love to buy a pair" and so on. That’s when I thought to myself. I love my jeans, lots of other people loved my jeans. Why not start a denim line?

I had actually thought about a clothing business before while travelling through India and seeing all the sewing factories in action. It really excited me but I was never that serious about it until now.

So why not give it a bash? Why not bring the cool fashion of Burning Man to the Streets? So after some research, I brought our homemade jeans to a sewing factory in the Mission district of San Francisco. They thought I was nuts showing up with a pair of multi-colored flares, no pockets, no waistband, telling them I wanted to start a denim company. They told me if I was serious I had to come back with a proper five pocket jean pattern. So after a bit more research I had a guy called Steven Heard make me a pattern and then I took it across the street from his studio to an older Chinese woman to sew it up for me. I also brought her over a big piece of cardboard with a drawing of a pair of jeans (front and back) with the precise sequence of the way I wanted the colored patches to be arranged. That was my sample. She assured me it would be no problem and ready in a few days. A few days turned into a few weeks and it ended up being more of a problem for her (based upon the appearance of the final product). Then, she asked me to bring in her some buttons as she was going to put the final touches on my jeans, as they say in the business, "the trim.” I remember going in to collect the jeans and asking for Lily, all the other Chinese women who worked there started whispering to each other and giving me weird looks. “Lily not here” one of them said. “Come back hour” I had this weird feeling come over me as if I had done something wrong and was calling in to apologize to a neighbor and felt real awkward. I think they thought that they would be sewing up our jeans on a regular basis and didn't like it. Denim can be pretty tricky to work with and you need special denim sewing machines or it can be a real pain.

Anyway I came back an hour later and Lily was back I gave her the new buttons I had picked up at the fabric store and then stood beside her, looking at her trying to put the buttons on with a hammer.

It was brutal. A complete botched job. The buttons ended up bent and cracked, it was twisted to watch. She then asked me for another button after destroying the first one I gave her. She mumbled something in Chinese and then said, button not right. I felt like saying, you not right, but I bit my lip.Then, she handed me the jeans with the new button crushed on and all bent and a bill for $300. The colors were far from what I had envisioned even though I had given her everything she needed to replicate my vision. Reluctantly, I paid her $180 instead of $300, told her things were not right and left with that same sickly feeling in my stomach that I had only a few weeks before. I then drove around the corner to a store on Valencia Street called “Five & Diamond” and asked them if they would sell the jeans in their store. The girl gave me a weird look and said “no, it not for us.” I couldn't blame her - they were a joke. I felt like giving up there and then, but I had a much cleaner, fashionable vision and I wasn't about to let it go that easy.

Back to the drawing board I thought. I went home that day and started researching again. This time I found a proper denim factory called Sky Blue which was just off Sixth Street in San Francisco’s SOMA district about a 10 minute drive from my apartment. These guys are the real deal. They do a lot of the Levis samples before they’re sent for production to China, or Mexico etc, etc. I called them up six times and they gave me the brush off each time I called - “We're too busy,” “Can't help you." all sorts of different excuses.

So I decided I better just call down to them in person. I called down the following day after my sixth call and the owner asked me to come back the following week. The following week I came back and met a guy called Kieran who agreed to help me make some samples.

Lessons I learned from this chapter of my life.

1. There's no point in flogging a dead horse. 2. You need to have deep pockets when learning to day trade.3. Burning Man is the most creative place on earth.4. You don't have to be great to start, but you have to start to be great.

Till next time

Cheers

Gerry

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15506105-chapter-14-guerilla-marketing-real-estate-big-visions2016-04-18T15:49:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:41-08:00Chapter 14 - Guerilla Marketing, Real Estate & Big VisionsGerry KellyAfter a few great years working at the Irish Bank, I decided it was time for a change. I didn't know what I wanted to do next. I just knew I wanted to make more money and not have to work nights for the rest of my life. Late one night, I came home from work and put on the TV. It was about 4am and there was an infomercial on with some cheesy dude talking about how he made millions from buying real estate with “Zero Money Down.” As cheesy as he was, I was blown away listening to what he had to say. So I ended up buying his CD's (“Real Estate Riches”). This was around 2004/2005 and everybody and their mother were talking about real estate. So I decided to get my real estate licence and jump on the bandwagon.

I ended up getting a job through a craigslist posting as a “Loan Officer” for a Mortgage Brokerage. The brokerage was called Specialty Funding - it was run by three Jordanian brothers, George, Faris and Fadi. These guys were super cool, extremely knowledgeable, very down to earth and extremely ambitious. Great people to be around. My job as a Loan Officer was to find potential home buyers and people who wanted to refinance their existing mortgages.

Even though I was working for a broker I was basically working for myself. To say the least, it was a bit nerve racking at first. I had to find all my own customers and it was 100% commission based. This was completely new to me. Like most folks in real estate, I was thrown in the deep end and after some mortgage finance training, I had to hit the streets on my own and find customers.

I started off the traditional route by calling all my friends and also going to networking event after networking event. My goal was to become friends with CPA’s, Real Estate Agents, Real Estate Attorney’s and Financial Planners in hopes that they would refer business to me. It was tough. Most events I went to were full of other mortgage brokers all on the same mission. And I never felt that comfortable trying to befriend Real Estate Agents/CPA’s etc... who didn't really have any interest in talking to me either.

The networking approach wasn't working very well for me, so I decided to take the fight to the streets. Proper guerrilla marketing style. I used to print up 3000 fliers per week and hit the streets with approx 500 flyers a day. I put them on cars behind windshield wipers, in mail boxes, anywhere and everywhere I could. I used to wait outside the front door of large apartment complexes and when someone came out I’d walk in and start on the top floor and put flyers under every door from the the top floor to the bottom floor. Sometimes I’d get chased out by property managers. I also nailed 24” X 24” ugly yellow signs to lamp posts on all the major intersections around San Francisco with the words “3 Bed, 2 Bath House For Sale, $2500 per month, Zero Down Payment, Free Recorded Message”. I had a free 1-800 number with a recorded message with me talking about how you could buy a house with no money down - the message lasted about two minutes long. I could then see on a software program called “call capture” how long someone listened to my message. If they listened for the whole duration and left me a message I knew they were somewhat serious. I would then follow up with a call and then a meeting. Yet again, it was a complete numbers game.

I used to have all sorts of weirdos leaving me messages, especially over the weekend in the early hours of the morning. Obviously people on the way back from the bar drunk. Some were sincere and some would shout crazy abuse down the phone. The ones who shouted abuse down the phone never expected me to call them back, and I would. It used to really shock them when they would get a call at 11am on a Monday morning asking them what their issue was. Even if you pressed *67 trying to hide your number before you called, call capture would still get your number.

By law, I had to put my Brokers License number on all my marketing material. After a few months of me blanketing the city with ugly yellow signs and flyers, my broker called me into his office and told me that he had gotten quite a few complaints from the City & County of San Francisco and I had to stop with the flyers and signs.

It worked for a while so I couldn't complain, I’m still friends with quite a few people that I met through my ugly yellow signs and flyers. I then teamed up with a Russian guy named Vlad who worked in the same office as me and had the same vision which was to to build a real estate empire. Our only obstacle was, we didn't have any money. So, we put the the Zero Down thing to the test. We bought two houses in San Francisco at the same time with no money down. We then rented them out and refinanced them after a few months after we did a new paint job and maybe some new flooring if needed. Then we took out a line of credit on each of them and used that money to purchase some commercial properties in upstate New York through a lender called Greenpoint. Greenpoint would allow you to buy commercial property with only putting 10% of the selling price down, then allow the seller to finance 10% and the bank would lend us the remaining 80%. This was unheard of in commercial property. This was 2006/2007, and the real estate market was very different back then. Not long after, Greenpoint went bust with lots of other banks.

Vlad and I had big visions. Our goal was to buy distressed commercial properties all over the US do some work on them, bring them up to scratch and positive cash flowing and eventually have one property manager run everything. Things went great for a while. We had some commercial property in upstate New York that paid us enough passive income each month to pay our living expenses and travel. During my free time, I did some courses on how to trade the stock market and started day trading futures, that was an eye opener.

It actually seemed like our plan was working, until.... We cashed out some money from our buildings in New York and bought some more commercial property in Huntsville, Alabama. Our goal was to fix it up, rent it out and then refinance again, pay our creditors off and still have enough money left to go again. Naive and silly, we left the remodel of the Alabama property in the hands of a young property manager who talked a great game and didn't deliver on his word. And like many people all over the world, we got stuck in the middle of the credit crisis and couldn't get the bank to refinance our new property in time. We were left with a pretty big monthly holding cost that we couldn't sustain for much longer unless we got the refinance sorted out.

Lessons I learned from this Chapter in my life.1. Guerrilla marketing really works :)2. Don’t ever leave your business in the hands of someone else to look after. Nobody will care for it as much as you do.3. Yet again, sales is a total numbers game.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15506081-chapter-13-the-irish-bank-war-pigs-and-boat-parties2016-03-15T15:42:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:42-08:00Chapter 13 - The Irish Bank, War Pigs And Boat PartiesGerry KellyAfter hearing there was good money to be made working in Irish bars, I went on a mission to find a cool Irish Bar to work in. For about three weeks, I hit the streets with introduction letters and resumes showing all my bartending skills etc. I visited lots of different Irish bars in the city, but ended up narrowing the job search down to one bar in the financial district called “The Irish Bank.” It was a cool Irish bar that was super busy with young bankers and up and coming tech guys. With some persistence, I ended up getting a job there as a bar back (picking up glasses and making sure the bar was fully stocked at all times). I was prepared to do anything just to get my foot in the door.

When I came in for my first day of work, I got formally introduced to three bartenders, all from Ireland: Eamon from Kerry, Kevin from Donegal and a guy called Dahi from Armagh in the North of Ireland. That name sounded familiar so I asked Dahi where in Armagh he was from, not that I had ever been to Armagh. He said “Blackwater Town” and gave me a funny look, as if to say “What do you know about Armagh?” Suddenly a light bulb went off in my head and I heard that “twilight zone music.” Then I asked him, “do you know Dermy Finn?” This really threw him off. “How the fuck do you know Dermy Finn?” he said all serious. I then told him the story of how Dermy and I worked together on a building site in Australia and him telling me about San Francisco and the Burning Man etc... Here I was on the other side of the planet just by chance running into the guy my friend in Australia was telling me about. Pretty crazy to say the least!!!

I started working Friday and Saturday nights collecting glasses and within a few months I was working four to five nights a week bartending making decent money and at last saving a few dollars again. I loved it. Bartending in the U.S. is way different than bartending anywhere else. In the States, it’s all about being social, friendly and taking care of your customers and in turn, they tip you out well. In most other countries when working in a bar, it’s about dishing out as much drink as possible as quickly as possible. Customer service is not always the best -- in fact, it’s usually shit. But I guess when you’re relying on tips, you have no choice but to be personable, which I gotta admit came pretty natural to me.

There was a real good group of us working in the Irish bank. I used to work with a crazy girl called Melissa. Melissa was so much fun to work with. She was stone mad. She had a husky voice and was a hardcore drinker and smoker. We used to work some day shifts together. She was waitressing and I was bartending. We’d usually both come in a bit hungover and we’d start the day off with a few shots. Melissa would set up her tables in the restaurant and then come back into the bar, grab a bottle of bud and another shot, and put the craziest heavy metal tunes on in the jukebox, like “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath. This was on a Tuesday afternoon at lunch time. We had people from all walks of life coming into the Irish Bank. That’s what was so cool about it. Every week like clockwork for about six months a lunatic called Kenneth (Crazy Kenny) used to come into the bar every week to visit us. He’d also put the craziest music in the jukebox and start dancing next to it as if it was last orders on a Saturday night. And Melissa would join him. It was hilarious. The business folks who came in for lunch didn’t know what to make of it. Some would laugh and some would frown. Kenneth used to tip me really well so, of course, I used to give him double shots. Then Jacques (The Manager) came in one day for some lunch on his day off and asked Kenneth to relax. Kenneth got all pissed off saying that he paid for the songs in the jukebox and was entitled to dance beside it. So Jacques fucked him out and barred him from the Bank (or as they say in the States, 86ed him).

Then, on the other side of the scale, we’d have some young executives from PayPal. I remember one guy in particular: Jack Selby. He used to tip really well. I asked him one night what he did for a living and he said he was out of work right now and wasn’t sure if he was going to go back. He was 29 and had the option of never working again. Now, that’s pretty fucken cool and inspirational.

Not only did I get a new job that I loved, I also got a new place to live. Dahi had a spare room in his house and offered it to me, Thank God. The hostel was getting a bit out of hand and it was time to move on. Dahi, his brother Mark and their friend Austy, all lived together in an apartment in the heart of Haight Ashbury. It was pretty wild to say the least. There was no shortage of people to go out on the town with. Sundays and Mondays were my weekend. So Austy and I would do a pub crawl every Monday day even though he was meant to be in working on the building site. He’d usually go back to work late on a Tuesday or Wednesday morning. We had some fun times on those Monday afternoon sessions in Haight Street. Through Dahi, I got introduced to a whole new group of friends -- a lot from the North of Ireland through his football team and a lot of people in the bar and nightclub scene. He was like an older brother to me and had no problem putting me straight when I got out of hand.

The two of us would work Saturday nights together and instead of having me just collect glasses doing the bar back work (as my job was) he’d let me bartend and split the tips with me 50/50 which was pretty cool. A lot of bartenders and waiters from all the other bars and restaurants downtown used to drink in our bar. It was unreal. We used to look after the other industry folks pretty well -- these guys would tip the best. Because I worked in the Irish Bank, I could drink for free in nearly all the bars in the downtown area. Once you get into the bar scene and you treat other bar staff well, it can be pretty amazing. Some nights after work we’d make our way up to the StarLight Room a snazzy nightclub on the top floor of the St. Francis Drake Hotel for a lock in. The manager at the time “Billy” used to open up the whole bar and a few of us would sit there till early hours of the morning drinking and chatting while looking out over Union Square.

Dahi was always talking about cool ideas and businesses he was going to start. He was a real go getter and was constantly working on something. When I first met him, he used to hold boat parties on a small boat called the “Angel Island Express.” He used to fill the boat up with booze and put a DJ booth in the corner and hold a rave on the boat for hours cruising around San Francisco Bay. In the beginning, it was all the Irish lads from the Gaelic football team and their friends that would come out to support him. Then slow but sure, he had clubbers from all over the Bay Area coming to party on much bigger boats. The word about his boat parties spread like wildfire. I remember in the beginning, a few of us would go out to Berkeley University with Dahi handing out flyers to students trying to hustle them onto the boat. And then a year later, tickets would sell out in a few days. It was so inspirational to see it grow.

One lesson that I took from this period in my life was, relationships (real relationships) are one of the most valuable things this world has to offer. Make sure to cherish them and appreciate the times together, as you just never know what the future holds.

Till Next Time

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15506069-chapter-12-my-first-few-months-in-san-francisco2016-02-16T15:34:00-08:002017-02-22T11:12:42-08:00Chapter 12 - My First Few Months In San FranciscoGerry KellyAfter a 10 hour bus ride from LA, my buddy Des and I arrived in San Francisco on a cloudy Tuesday morning in September 2000. We made our way to the Pacific Tradewinds Hostel in Chinatown. We couldn't book in until 4pm, so we relaxed for a few hours in Union Square drinking coffee with our backpacks wondering what the fuck were we going to do next.

While sitting in Union Square, I got talking to an Italian guy who had just traveled around South America and funded his whole trip teaching English. He said he had done a course called TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) just up the Street from Union Square in a language school and could literally travel anywhere in the world and teach English with his certificate.

“Pretty cool,” I thought. So after we settled into the hostel, I went in search of the language school he had talked about. I had a vision of myself travelling around South America teaching English. I enrolled in and completed an 8 week TEFL course that took place two nights a week at the school.

We stayed the maximum allowed in the hostel which was only two weeks and then had no choice but to leave and find another place to stay. I called my family in Ireland one day and spoke to my sister. She told me that she had spoke to one of our cousins and they said that their brother Padraic (my cousin) was living in San Francisco. It was probably 20 years since I had last seen Padraic. She had a number for me to call, which I immediately called. It turned out he was a painting contractor in San Francisco. After a quick surprise call to him, we hooked up for a few beers and the next day I was painting retail stores and houses in San Francisco. Thank God for that because I had run out of money and was thinking about packing up everything and just going home. The first job I worked on was a pretty cool fashion forward boutique called “Villians” on Haight Street. We painted it some cool funky green and purple colors. I used to spend most of my wages buying clothing in Haight Street. It used to have the coolest stores in San Francisco. Mind you, it still has some amazing vintage boutiques.

Then, we were painting some beautiful houses in the Marina district. It blew me away that these houses were owned by young tech millionaires in their early 20’s. I had arrived in San Francisco at the height of the dot com boom in 2000, which was a pretty crazy/interesting time to be in San Francisco. It’s actually very much what it’s like right now.

Also, it was extremely tough to get an apartment to rent, especially with no references and no deposit etc. So Des & I sniffed out another hostel in an area called “The Tenderloin.” To say the least, the hostel was ok but the area was a shit hole. It was crack head central. It was crazy. We had bums literally sleeping outside our front door and fights on the corner all night long. There was a sleazy strip joint next door to us too. Every night at about 3am a Chinese woman used to empty all the trash cans on the sidewalk in front of the hostel and dig through the trash for cans and bottles to turn in for cash. There was a lot of activity.

Our hostel was full of long term backpackers in transit, some guys had come to SF for a week and were still there three years later. I gotta admit, it was fun and a great place to get situated, meet people and get work. There was always something going on. There were guys and girls from all over the world. Most people were working in construction or bar work. There was a bar directly underneath the hostel called “Reds Corner” where a lot of backpackers used to hang out. I got a job bar tending two nights a week for a few weeks filling in for a guy who went back to Ireland for vacation. I’ll never forget it. At the time, people used to smoke in bars. They had some loophole. If it was owner operated, you could smoke etc…

One night, I was working with the manager, a hardcore New Yorker called Tommy. Tommy looked like he smoked 200 cigarettes a day and washed it down with a bottle of whisky. He had a face that was as rough as a badgers arse. I think Tommy grew up in the inner city Bronx and was mysteriously transplanted into the middle of the Tenderlion. All he knew was rough hardcore, no nonsense, carry a gun, knock you out type of shit.

I’ll never forget one night when we were working together I asked him, “What’s the craic like in here on a Friday?” He gave me a strange look and said “same as every fucken day.” (Craic in Irish terms means Fun/Good times) Then, the same night, I asked him could I smoke a fag behind the bar. O man, he didn't know what to make of my Irish chat. It was a real eye opener. We had all types of weirdos trying to come into the bar begging for money, trying to use the toilet, trying to steal jackets. Tommy would roar and shout and chase them out. Sometimes, he’d throw handfuls of ice at them. Some bums would knock on the window and abuse him. I used to have to hold myself back from bursting out laughing, as I don't think he would have appreciated it. He was well used to taking crap from bums. I was only there for a few weeks but I could now see why Tommy looked like he did. It was crazy. Entertaining for a few weeks but stressful if it was your full time job.

I wasn't much of a painter. My cousin would regularly lose the plot with me as he was quite the perfectionist when it came to painting. We’d argue like crazy during work and once work was over, all would be good. I gotta admit. I was in quite a hole and he helped me out, that’s for sure. Some days/weeks, he’d be waiting on another job to start and instead of saying “there’s no work today,” he’d pick me up and we’d drive around the whole day chatting. He’d show me different jobs he did or some fun places to go. And he’d still pay me. For that, I will always be grateful to Padraic.

Because he and I both knew painting wasn't my forte, I went on a mission to find a job in an Irish Bar. The word on the Street was you could make good tips if you were personable. That was something more up my alley. In my first few months in San Francisco, I experienced gratitude. Thankfulness that the Tenderloin “lifestyle” was a temporary one and gratefulness that I had many choices before me. I saw San Francisco as a motley crew of characters and I liked being part of it so far.

Till next time :)

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15506065-chapter-11-usa-here-we-come2016-01-05T15:30:00-08:002017-02-22T11:12:42-08:00Chapter 11 - USA, Here We Come!Gerry KellyAfter an amazing year in Australia, it was time to move on. Four of us flew out of Melbourne on the same flight heading to New Zealand. By now,all our good friends were back in Ireland, bored and pissed off with only memories of their trip. It was a bit depressing leaving Australia knowing that we were now on the last leg of our round the world trip and I still had no idea of what I wanted to do with my life.

I had already spent eight weeks traveling around New Zealand, so I decided to continue on to Figi for a few weeks. The four of us ended up on a little Island called Mana. It was paradise: warm turquoise water, palmtrees, golden sand and chilled out big Fijian people.

While sitting on the beach one morning, I saw an extremely pale looking girl walking towards us. I had a sneaky suspicion she was Irish. She was milk bottle white with rosy red hair. Your stereotypical Irish girl.Turned out she was from Dublin and was on route to Australia and had just come from San Francisco. We got chatting and she said to me, “You gotta check out San Francisco! There’s something about it. It just draws you in."

"Wow," I thought. That was the second person who told me about San Francisco in the last few months. There must be something to this San Francisco place.

After a few weeks in Figi, we got a flight to Hawaii. We flew into Oahu. Again, we didn't have a clue where we were going, so we did the usual. We went to the bookstore in the airport and read through the trusty Lonely Planet travel guide and took down some names and numbers of some local hotels and hostels.

We ended up staying in a dodgy hostel in Honolulu and sharing a room with some pretty straight backpackers from France. We were now in Hawaii and decided to head out on the town and celebrate “Irish style.” We hit up a load of cheesy tourist bars. We kind of knew it was probably our last big night out together for a while, so we made sure it was a good one. We stumbled back to the hostel like a pack of wild dogs, three sheets to the wind at about 4am. We were shouting and roaring, waking up everybody inthe hostel. We clambered back into our bunks. We were super noisy and obviously very annoying. There were eight to a room. My buddy Liam lit up a cigarette in his bed. That was the final straw. A pretty big French lad jumped out of his bed in a pair of “Y Fronts” shouting and screaming at us to shut the F&*q up and telling Liam to put the cigarette out. “Chill out Pierre, or I’ll put you out,” Liam said in a calm passive/aggressive tone. I guess he wasn't used to being told off, especially by some pretty tough drunk Irish guy who was sharing a room with him. He didn’t say another word. He gave Liam a look and got backinto bed and went to sleep. He was gone before we got up, thank God.

We left the hostel the next afternoon and made our way to Waimea Bay on the North Shore of Oahu. We rented out a caravan in a pretty cool campground that was full of surfers and backpackers. We had barbecues there nearly every night for a week and got to meet some fun local surfers and more backpackers.

Our next stop was Los Angeles. Four of us arrived in LAX and got a shuttle to Venice Beach. We booked into a budget hotel called the “Jolly Roger” about half a mile from Venice boardwalk. If I didn't know what Iwas doing before, now, I was really lost. I didn't know a sinner in LA and our hotel was very impersonal. After getting used to staying in hostels and meeting other travelers, I felt a bit out of place in our boring hotel room in LA.

We only stayed two nights in LA. It’s definitely a bit of a daunting city if you don’t know anyone.

Liam and our other buddy Ciaran decided to get a train to Chicago. Liam’s brother was there for the summer playing Gaelic football and had room in his house for them. It was pretty sad to leave the lads especially after traveling for approx two years with Liam and living in London together. We had no idea when we’d see everyone again.

My buddy Des (also known as Dingo Des) and I decided to get a bus to San Francisco and see what all the fuss was about.

Next stop San Francisco.

One important thing I learned from my final leg of my journey is: It’s not where you are that matters, it’s who you’re with. Whoever is beside you and around you makes all the difference in the world.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15504477-chapter-10-australia-pre-olympics-1999-2000-g-day-g-day-mate2015-12-10T11:05:00-08:002017-02-22T11:12:43-08:00Chapter 10 - Australia Pre-Olympics 1999/2000 “G’day G’day Mate!”Gerry KellyAfter an eye opening few months in South East Asia, my buddy Liam and I decided to take a flight to Australia with one last stop before we had to start working again. This time it was Indonesia, we spent two weeks taking it easy on Kuta Beach in Bali with some other backpackers on route to Australia.

Our English friends Tim & Doug decided to go back to Thailand and meet back up with the girls they had left behind. When we arrived in Sydney, we had planned on meeting up with some of our good friends from back home: eleven single lads from Dublin who went to Australia on a one year working Visa about 8 months before we arrived.

When we actually got to Sydney, they were all still traveling up the Australian East Coast. My friend and I rented out a pretty cool furnished apartment in an area called Newtown (similar to Haight Ashbury in San Francisco or Camden Town in London). It had a pretty chilled out hippie vibe with amazing vintage stores, cool markets and some great bars and restaurants.

I ended up getting a job selling American Express insurance over the phone in a pretty big call center that was full of Irish and English backpackers. We each sat in cubicles like “Dilberts” and wore ear pieces on automatic dial to American Express customers. You had about 10 seconds between each call. The goal was to get as many existing card holders as you could to sign up for a free 30 day trial of American Express Insurance. After the 30 day trial ended they were charged approx $9 - $15 a month, depending on the coverage. It was a numbers game. I guess American Express was banking on most people forgetting to cancel it and make their money that way. I got to meet some really cool Irish and English guys and girls while working there.

Whenever I saw an Irish name come up on the screen, I would play the Irish card and tell them I’m an Irish backpacker and ask them if they would please do me a favor and sign up for a month and then cancel. Lots of people were up for it. All they had to say was “Yes” on a recorder. It didn't require filling out any forms, thank God.

Sometimes, when I got a real idiot on the phone getting abusive, telling me to never call again, instead of hitting the "Never Call Again" option I’d schedule a call for about 10 mins later. 10 mins later you’d hear someone in the call center saying "Oh My God! I just had some really pissed off customer on the phone. Someone called him just 10 minutes ago.” It was hilarious. Some days, I’d have pains in my stomach from laughing so much.

I also got another job bar-tending Friday and Saturday nights in a nightclub in Kings Cross. It worked out perfect. Not only was I saving money not going out to a bar, but I was also earning money working. I used to make the most awful tasting super strong cocktails. Some people loved them and tipped really well, and some would ask me to exchange for “something a bit more drinkable.” Then late one Saturday night, it got raided by the cops for serving after hours and they were closed down for a month and I never went back.

After a few months in Newtown, we decided to move over to Bondi Beach to another apartment right in the middle of all the action and next to the beach. The beaches and the water were unbelievable. Hard to believe that you were in a city. Bondi was full of young backpackers from Ireland, England and Scotland on their one year working Visa.

I only worked for three months at the call center (that’s all our work Visa’s would allow on any one job) and now needed a new job. My buddies had all worked on the building sites and got me in contact with some labor hire agencies. I got a job as a laborer on a pretty big building site where they were building a hotel and luxury apartments. This was just before the Sydney Olympics 2000. The place was screaming out for construction workers. There was construction going on everywhere. Three or four different labor hire agencies used to call our apartment every day looking for more workers. After a few months of laboring, I bought $600 worth of tools off a Welsh guy who was leaving town and chanced my arm at being a carpenter on another building site. It was a good bit more money then laboring. I had met a guy while laboring who said I could work with him and he would basically carry me along. Of course I still worked, but he did all the technical work. I was basically laboring for him and getting carpenters wages from the agency. It worked out great for a few months and all we were doing was putting up sheet rock. Then, he got sick for a week and I was transferred to another site run by an English guy who figured me out after a few days when he asked me to hang a few doors and build a staircase (which I had never done before). Anyway, I got a great run out of it, learned a good bit and got paid more than laboring, so I couldn't complain. I ended up selling the tools for what I had paid for them to some legitimate carpenter from Ireland.

My next job was working on the building of a Buddhist Temple just outside of Sydney. It was a bit of a trek but easy work. I met a really cool guy there from the North of Ireland, Dermy Finn. Dermy was a hardy tough Irish lad that was a hard worker and well up for a laugh. The foreman on our job liked us and we got to work together all the time. We had great chats about growing up and the crazy carry on we both got up to and travelling stories, which were very similar. We became pretty good friends while working together. The Aussie foreman from our job, Pete, was going through a divorce at the time and was always looking for some wing men to go out on the town with him, so of course we obliged. He was a good bit older than us but loved hanging out and hearing our travel stories.

Dermy would always be talking about his friends who were living in San Francisco and a cool festival they would go to every year called the “Burning Man”. I had never heard of it. He also mentioned that if I ever went to San Francisco that I should look up his friends. To be honest, I had never ever thought about going to San Francisco. The only thing I knew about San Francisco was from the TV show “The Streets of San Francisco,” which we watched sometimes when I was a kid.

After I had saved up some decent money, a few of us decided to go traveling up the east coast with a neighbor of ours from Dublin. He was a bit older than us, but well up for a laugh. He had an old Hiace van that could fit five lads and their bags comfortably. It was perfect.

We ripped up the East Coast like we were in the Cannonball Race. Some days we drove 1000 kilometers in one day and only saw about ten other cars on the road. It was desolate. We had a blast stopping off in some strange little towns along the way. We hit all the cool beach towns and drove inland to Mount Isa. Then we made our way to Ayers Rock, climbed the famous huge rock and hung around there for a few days.

At this stage, we were on the last leg of our round the world trip. We decided to make our way to Melbourne to fly out from there. Our next stop was New Zealand then Figi & Hawaii.

I learned a lot in Australia while I worked. Something that stuck with me most is: 1. Sales is a complete numbers game (the more calls you makethe more sales you get), and 2. There's no harm in trying (if a job isn't the right fit, you'll know)

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15504465-chapter-9-full-moon-parties-thailand-19992015-10-08T11:03:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:43-08:00Chapter 9 - Full Moon Parties Thailand 1999Gerry Kelly
After saying our goodbyes to our friends in London, five of us met just outside Heathrow Airport in the smoking area on a wet and damp March morning. We were each armed with an around-the-world ticket from Singapore Airlines. The word on the street was that Singapore Airlines was one of the best airlines in the world to travel with.

It was our good friend Tim’s 30th birthday the day before we left, so we planned to celebrate his birthday and the first day of our around-the-world trip in style. We started off with a few drinks in the departure lounge, and then we were ushered onto a beautiful 747 by a group of dainty little Asian women from Singapore in really cool uniforms. Definitely a step up from the haggard Aer Lingus attendants shouting “chicken or fish” in your ear.

This was pre 9/11, when you could literally drink as much as you wanted. We all got to sit next to each other. Before we had even taken off they were bringing us over beers and baby bottles of Irish whisky. Our first stop was Singapore which was 13 hours away, where we had to change planes for Thailand. I woke up on the runway in Singapore and looked around. No one else was on the plane except the super cool stewardesses. We were the last passengers left on the plane. All the lads were still asleep. It was like the aftermath of a wild house party. There were bodies sprawled out in their seats. It looked like someone's living room.

We had three hours to hang around Singapore airport. It was a pretty amazing airport for a lay over, free movie theaters, showers and some amazing restaurants and bars.

Then, we got another flight to Bangkok. We had no idea where we were going, but had heard from some other travelers that Ko San Road was the place to go to find out everything you needed to know.

Hungover and tired we walked out the front doors of Bangkok airport and the heat hit us with a bang, it was about 8am. Holy shit, it was hot and humid, and we were dehydrated and hungover. There was about 100 taxi drivers just outside the doors fighting for our business.After some tough haggling by our good friend Doug, five hungover sweaty guys and all our baggage crammed into a dodgy old Nissan. It looked like something out of a comedy sketch.

The driver drove us through Bangkok during rush hour traffic to a half decent hotel close to Ko San Road. After he dropped us off, he asked us if he could be our guide for the duration of our stay in Bangkok. “Sure,” we said.

It was about 9am local time and we were Fu@k*d. We needed some rest after our drinking binge on the plane. We told him to meet us back at the hotel at 3pm. Mind you we didn't actually wake up till 6pm. Low and behold he was sitting there waiting for us.Refreshed and ready to hit the streets, we left the hotel in his old Nissan. He brought us to a pretty cool Thai restaurant where the staff proceeded to fill us up with Sang Thip, a mass produced hardcore Thai whisky that is rumored to to contain hallucinogenic chemicals. Just perfect for our first night in Thailand.

We drank it like it was going out of fashion. After about three large bottles between the five of us, we ended up in Patpong Road partying in some crazy club with a load of other twisted foreigners and locals of all different genders.

After a few days of partying in Bangkok, two of us decided to make our way to the Island of Ko Samui on route to Ko Phangan for it’s famous full moon parties. The others would follow us there. We made our way to Ko San Road which was full of young backpackers from all over the world. We bought a bus ticket to Ko Samui and now had about 7 hours to wait. Instead of doing the sightseeing thing, we went straight to an Irish bar in the middle of Ko San Road.

After a few days in Ko Samui we decided to make our way to Ko Phangan. We wanted to get there a few days before the full moon party, to get properly situated.We got a little cabin in a place at the end of Haad Rin Beach right next to where a lot of the parties were taking place. Instead of staying for two weeks, we ended up staying for three months. I fell in love with the place. I think we went to every party possible, full moon parties, half moon parties, black moon parties, jungle parties. We did it all. In the bungalow across from where we were staying, there was a guy from Malta who seemed to be supplying the whole island with acid. We nicknamed him the Maltese Falcon. All day everyday there were tourists wandering around our bungalow grounds looking a bit bewildered after visiting the Maltese Falcon. Also, there was a cafe on the side of the mountain at the other end of the beach that served magic mushroom milkshakes and omelettes, it was a pretty crazy place back then. Tim & Doug spent most of the time on Ko Samui drinking beers and playing connect four and janga with some of the local women. We took a few trips back and forth from Ko Phangan to Ko Samui every few weeks to party with the lads and they did the same with us. One night while out partying in Ko Samui in a place called the “Green Mango,” we ended up in a fight with a group of lady boys. My good buddy Liam decided to tell some drunk English guy that the girl he was with wasn't actually a girl. Which happened to a lot of young backpackers. Liam proved it to him by grabbing the lady boys nuts. Bad move. Suddenly lady boys came out of the woodwork and went straight for Liam. The two of us ended up getting a few slaps. Mind you, Liam got more than a few slaps. They cracked him over the head and back with a pool cue quite a few times. The next day I made a decision to apologize to the lady boy that Liam grabbed. That wasn't a fun encounter. We had to go to a lady boy bar called “Christies” that held a cabaret every night with about 12 lady boys. Find the lady boy and then apologize, it had to be done. I didn't want to walk around the Island paranoid about been attacked by a group of wild lady boys. He actually wanted to go back and fight with them and I talked him around that it wouldn't be a good idea. “We’re in Thailand Liam.” I said.

After approx three months in Thailand, we decided to move on to Vietnam. The Vietnamese embassy screwed up our visa’s and instead of having a month stay in Vietnam we ended up with only a week. This was 1999 and Vietnam hadn't seen many tourists. The place was crazy and the monsoon had started. We didn't see many other foreigners at all. We ended up spending the week in Saigon partying it up. We had the cyclo drivers/cyclists race each other with each of us in our own cyclo’s through the crowded streets when we were drunk. They didn't know what to make of us. They took us to some real seedy underground bars. Ho Chi Min (Saigon) in 1999 was a crazy place.

At this stage our friend Dave left us after Thailand and went straight to Australia. Tim, Doug, Liam and I made our way back to Singapore, stayed there for a few days and then got a bus to Malaysia.

It was fun, but nothing like Thailand or Vietnam. ]]>
https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15504457-chapter-8-living-in-london-1997-98-and-the-rave-scene2015-08-11T11:00:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:44-08:00Chapter 8 - Living In London 1997/98 And The Rave SceneGerry KellyAfter a quick six week stint in Ireland, I decided to move to London. I moved into a three story Victorian house in Earls Court (Aussie & Kiwi Backpacker Central) that housed approx 24 Aussies & Kiwi’s. These guys were all on a two year working Visa and were out to save some money, have some fun and travel the world.

I had only ever been to London twice before this and that was when I was just passing through on route to Greece. Holy shit London was big and very impersonal, a crazy melting pot of people from all over the world. I was a bit intimidated to say the least. I ended up sharing a room with four other guys and girls from Australia. Rent worked out at 20 pound a week each. Mind you, the house only warranted 20 pound a week. There were holes in the stairs, walls and bathrooms, and the kitchen reminded me of something out of an old Stephen King movie. To top it all off, the house was overrun with bed bugs! We used to joke and say that "the rats wore overalls" in the house.

It was low overhead, and now I had a base, and address and could get a job. Also, I knew it was only temporary, “Thank God.”

I got some crappy office clerk job through a labor hire agency for a few days a week. I gotta admit it was a bit depressing at first. I only knew a few people in London, who were all doing their own thing. I didn't even want to contact anyone till I at least had some money in my pocket and felt comfortable having a night out.

After a few months of crappy work, I got another job with an Irish Woman selling computer training courses over the phone. I was now an "Account Manager." After about two weeks of training, I was a pro. I still didn't know crap all about computers, but I talked like I did. I loved it, most of the time I was speaking to HR girls who were booking training courses for their employees. They loved my accent and wanted to talk all day and our courses were actually pretty good (so I was told) so it was an easy sell. I was on salary plus commission, which was great. We always blew through our targets. I also got a job in a local bar in Hammersmith, bar backing and bar tending and did the same trick as I did in Greece. Instead of picking up all the empties, I’d pick up a few full beers as well and drink them in the bathroom at high speed. I'd even pick up some drinks and give them to the girls I worked with. They loved it, and thought I was crazy. The bar manager was a major Coke head from the Isle of White and was always up for a few beers and a laugh after work. He used to come out of the bathroom with bits of coke hanging out of his nose and talk some crap. He was always trying it on the girls we worked with. I used to get a good laugh listening to his nonsense while having a few beers at the end of the night.

Finally, I was making some decent money at my new job and felt good. I must admit, I had thought about leaving London quite a few times in the beginning, especially when I was broke and felt a bit out of place.

I moved into a two bed semi luxury apartment in Hammersmith with Scott, a good friend of mine that I had met in Greece, and both of our girlfriends at the time. My buddy and I were partying quite a bit which didn't go down too well with our girlfriends. Also, my friend had been charged with allegedly transporting some ecstasy pills from Holland to England and was looking at a few years in prison if convicted. So to say the least, there was some tension around the apartment.

We both ended up splitting up with our girlfriends at the same time (which worked out perfect) and moved into a three bedroom house in east London. Within a week, I knew it was the best decision ever and I had a new family. My good friend Liam from Dublin (not “The Liamo” who had been to Greece with me in 1995, but a different Liam ) moved in also. Liam had moved to London not long after I got there and moved in with his brother in North London. He was looking for a house closer to the city, so the timing was perfect. Liam was up for anything, the crazier the better. Also, a New Zealand couple (friends of friends) moved in, Tony & Ben (Ben was short for Rebecca). They ended up hanging out with us all the time. They were an amazing fun couple. It was a real fun family, the five of us.

The party was in full swing. I gave up my bar job and now my weekends were free. I lived for Fridays. Every Friday was dress down day in the office I worked in. So I would come to work in my jeans and trainers ready to party. I used to bring a small backpack with a change of clothes and a tooth brush. I'd usually meet Liam & Scott in the Punch & Judy Bar in Covent Garden and we'd start the session there with some other friends and then make our way to some club or party. Most weekends, I'd stay out all weekend at some club or party and/or friends' house. We used to hit up places like Bagleys in Kings Cross (see video - www.youtube.com/watch?v=VjZjbQEDsJ0 and The Cross, also the Aquarium on Old Street and sometimes Sunny Side Up and of course the Fridge in Brixton. I loved the music, but I was more into socializing. I used to spend half the night in the chill out rooms drinking beers, smoking and chatting with other ravers. We always ended our weekend drinking in Camden Town on Sunday afternoons with a good group of friends reminiscing over what happened on Friday & Saturday. Times were good.

We never knew when and what exactly was going to happen to our good friend and roommate as his Court case was dragging on for so long (well over a year). So, we had a going away party nearly every weekend. His friends used to come up from Hampshire and our friends used to fly over from Dublin on Ryanair flights and join us for a party.

And then the inevitable happened, he got convicted and sentenced to a few years in prison. Suddenly everything changed. It just wasn't the same without him. Tony & Ben moved out and Liam and I had decided to leave London and go travelling around the world. Tim from Stoke, Doug from Wolverhampton and Dave (a school friend of mine from Dublin) decided to join us on our trip. We decided to leave on March 3rd 1999 and make our way to Australia with a few stops on the way.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15504453-chapter-7-respect-the-weed2015-07-22T10:57:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:44-08:00Chapter 7 - Respect The WeedGerry Kelly
I arrived in Amsterdam on our way back from Egypt in late November 1996. I was with two friends, Linda from Sweden & Joyce a stoner from Australia who we had met in Turkey. A lot of the other guys that were travelling with us had now gone their separate ways. Some had gone home and some went straight to London to find work. Amsterdam was cold, wet and we were broke after all our travelling. We had planned to meet our friend Doug there a few days later. He had to get a different flight as he was over 30 and couldn't use the dodgy student cards to get the cheap flights we got.

I arrived in Amsterdam on our way back from Egypt in late November 1996. I was with two friends, Linda from Sweden & Joyce a stoner from Australia who we had met in Turkey. A lot of the other guys that were travelling with us had now gone their separate ways. Some had gone home and some went straight to London to find work. Amsterdam was cold, wet and we were broke after all our travelling. We had planned to meet our friend Doug there a few days later. He had to get a different flight as he was over 30 and couldn't use the dodgy student cards to get the cheap flights we got.

We stayed in a hostel in the center of Amsterdam. It was full of young Canadians and Americans who were over for the Cannabis Cup. The hostel smelt like 20 skunks had just sprayed the place down. There were clouds of smoke bellowing around every corner. It was stoner central.

We had some breakfast (scrambled eggs and bread, not toasted) in the smoke filled communal dining area. Breakfast was included in the price of the hostel. The scrambled egg was dished out of a huge pot by some strange looking African dude with one eye and his buddy next to him was handing out two slices of dry bread to everyone in the line. It was like a scene out of a World War II movie.

We then took a stroll around Amsterdam, checked out a few museums etc...and then hit a bar for a few drinks. After that, we decided to check out the Bob Marley Cafe, after hearing some great reports about it from some of the stoners in the hostel.

I quite fancied myself as a hardcore smoker after smoking some crappy weed in Greece, Turkey, Israel & Egypt. O Boy, was I in for a rude awakening.

The three of us huddled into a corner seat in the packed out Smokey Bob Marley Cafe. I asked Joyce what was the strongest weed she had ever smoked. “Northern Lights,” she said.

So I ordered three juices and a gram of Northern Lights and some rolling papers. I rolled up a pure weed joint and gave it to Joyce to light up. She lit it up and took one toke and passed it to Linda who did the same. Then it came to me and I puffed on it like it was the last joint on earth. We continued to pass the joint around the table and I continued to smoke it like a man possessed.

When the joint was finished, we sat there talking about our plans for getting to London. We decided to make our way to Calais in France and get a ferry to Dover.

Suddenly, I felt a bead of sweat drip down the left side of my face. Then, about a minute later, a waterfall of sweat came gushing down my forehead. And then, a severe dose of paranoia came over me. To put it mildly, I was f#^@*d. I made some crappy excuse and told the girls I had to get a bit of air. “I was a bit warm,” I said. It was below zero and everyone around us was in their duffel coats and scarves.

I made my way out the front door of the cafe thinking everyone was looking at me and sat against the wall outside on the sidewalk. My head was spinning in all angles. Then, I was approached by some Algerian guys trying to sell me drugs. “O God leave me alone.” I said. They didn't know what to make of me. To say the least I was mangled. It took me a good two hours to come back to planet earth. I can safely say that I had a lot more respect for the holy herb after that experience.

I didn't smoke another joint in Holland after that. Doug arrived two days later and we hung about another few days in the bars and then made our way to France by train and took the ferry to Dover in England. We then made our way to London and stayed with some of our Aussie friends we knew from Greece.I got a job in a kitchen of a restaurant that my good friend Butcher got a head chef job at. It was another easy, mundane job to raise a few dollars before I went back to Ireland for Xmas.

I arrived back in Ireland a week before Xmas. It was great to see my family and friends, but I gotta admit, I was a bit depressed as I didn't want my vacation to end.

Something I learned from these adventures traveling throughout is that, if you are open to the world, then the world will open doors for you. I never worried about how, I just needed to decide where. Once a goal was picked, I knew I would get there and I enjoyed the journey along the way. It’s a lesson I carry with me today.

Cheers

Gerry :)

We stayed in a hostel in the center of Amsterdam. It was full of young Canadians and Americans who were over for the Cannabis Cup. The hostel smelt like 20 skunks had just sprayed the place down. There were clouds of smoke bellowing around every corner. It was stoner central.

We had some breakfast (scrambled eggs and bread, not toasted) in the smoke filled communal dining area. Breakfast was included in the price of the hostel. The scrambled egg was dished out of a huge pot by some strange looking African dude with one eye and his buddy next to him was handing out two slices of dry bread to everyone in the line. It was like a scene out of a World War II movie.

We then took a stroll around Amsterdam, checked out a few museums etc...and then hit a bar for a few drinks. After that, we decided to check out the Bob Marley Cafe, after hearing some great reports about it from some of the stoners in the hostel.

I quite fancied myself as a hardcore smoker after smoking some crappy weed in Greece, Turkey, Israel & Egypt. O Boy, was I in for a rude awakening.

The three of us huddled into a corner seat in the packed out Smokey Bob Marley Cafe. I asked Joyce what was the strongest weed she had ever smoked. “Northern Lights,” she said.

So I ordered three juices and a gram of Northern Lights and some rolling papers. I rolled up a pure weed joint and gave it to Joyce to light up. She lit it up and took one toke and passed it to Linda who did the same. Then it came to me and I puffed on it like it was the last joint on earth. We continued to pass the joint around the table and I continued to smoke it like a man possessed.

When the joint was finished, we sat there talking about our plans for getting to London. We decided to make our way to Calais in France and get a ferry to Dover.

Suddenly, I felt a bead of sweat drip down the left side of my face. Then, about a minute later, a waterfall of sweat came gushing down my forehead. And then, a severe dose of paranoia came over me. To put it mildly, I was f#^@*d. I made some crappy excuse and told the girls I had to get a bit of air. “I was a bit warm,” I said. It was below zero and everyone around us was in their duffel coats and scarves.

I made my way out the front door of the cafe thinking everyone was looking at me and sat against the wall outside on the sidewalk. My head was spinning in all angles. Then, I was approached by some Algerian guys trying to sell me drugs. “O God leave me alone.” I said. They didn't know what to make of me. To say the least I was mangled. It took me a good two hours to come back to planet earth. I can safely say that I had a lot more respect for the holy herb after that experience.

I didn't smoke another joint in Holland after that. Doug arrived two days later and we hung about another few days in the bars and then made our way to France by train and took the ferry to Dover in England. We then made our way to London and stayed with some of our Aussie friends we knew from Greece.I got a job in a kitchen of a restaurant that my good friend Butcher got a head chef job at. It was another easy, mundane job to raise a few dollars before I went back to Ireland for Xmas.

I arrived back in Ireland a week before Xmas. It was great to see my family and friends, but I gotta admit, I was a bit depressed as I didn't want my vacation to end.

Something I learned from these adventures traveling throughout is that, if you are open to the world, then the world will open doors for you. I never worried about how, I just needed to decide where. Once a goal was picked, I knew I would get there and I enjoyed the journey along the way. It’s a lesson I carry with me today.

Cheers

Gerry :)

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15503109-chapter-6-a-one-month-trip-that-turned-into-a-year2015-05-01T19:15:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:44-08:00Chapter 6 - A One Month Trip That Turned into A YearGerry KellyAfter returning to Ireland from my second stint in Greece, I couldn't sit still. I had to go travelling again, but I needed cash (and I also had to hang around to repeat my exams). This time, I got a job in a local factory packing Microsoft Win 97 boxes and a job in a restaurant 3 nights a week. It was easy money and easy work. This time around, I passed my exams, got my diploma in Legal Studies and was ready for an adventure.

One night in my local bar, I met a neighbor of mine who had also travelled to Greece. He stayed on the Island of Corfu, and asked me if I wanted to travel to Corfu with him by car. He told me that it was amazing and I had to go. To be honest, I just wanted to go travelling and have some fun and none of my friends were up for it at that time, so I thought, "F%@k it, I'll go."Three of us (my neighbor, his girlfriend and myself) drove from Ireland to Greece. It was a long drive with multiple ferry rides. We ripped through it in about 3.5 days of non-stop driving in a packed out old Volkswagen Scirocco, partying every leg of the journey. This was May 1996.It turned out to be the quietest town that I had ever been too. Not only were there no tourists, there were hardly any Greeks either.To say the least, it wasn't the place for a party. But to be fair, it was beautiful. (Back then, as young as I was, I was more interested in the party than the scenery.) After a few days, I went in search of life and ended up in small town called Benitses about 10 miles away. It was a quiet town with a few bars. As luck would have it, I found a little bar called "Idols." It was full of English guys and girls who were also looking for work. "Dave," the owner of the bar, was a complete nut job from Newcastle. The bar was like a human zoo. Half the people had never been away from home before and they were partying like the world was about to end. I was the only Irish guy in there and by the end of the night I was friends with most of the customers. I really clicked with two guys from England, Tim & Doug.Tim was from Stoke & Doug was from Wolverhampton. They were travelling around Europe in an old camper van that they bought in England for 800 Pounds. They called it "Dave the Van" in honor of their friend Dave who was meant to travel with them but ended up in some trouble and couldn't leave England. These guys were on a different level than most travelers you meet. They were hardy English lads who were up for a party and anything for that matter.After a few crazy days and nights partying with Tim & Doug, I moved into their camper van. I also decided I wasn't even going to look for work in Corfu. Instead I'd enjoy myself, and that's what I did. Mind you I did end up working one night though. It was when an 18 - 30's party tour bus came through the town we were staying in and the owner of a club asked Tim, Doug and I if we would help pick up the empty bottles in his nightclub. Not only did we pick up the empties, we also picked up the full bottles :)I talked Tim & Doug into coming to the Island of Ios with me. I knew they'd love it. They were a bit hesitant at first and then they came around. But before we left the Island of Corfu we decided to take a trip to a place called the "Pink Palace" a cheesy 18 - 30's hostel/hotel where backpackers usually stay for about 2-3 nights and party like crazy. It suited us down to the ground. At this stage, there were four of us. One of my best friends from home, "Butcher," had come over to join me. We swooped him up at the airport at about 3am (only 4 hours late, hammered drunk in "Dave the Van") and headed straight for the for Pink Palace. There was 15 English lads and myself crammed into the van, how the van wasn't confiscated or the lads were done for drink driving I have no idea.After a wild three days at the Pink Palace, we were toasted. It definitely lived up to its reputation as a cheesy party destination: toga parties and drinking games etc..... We decided to make our way to Ios, which was the other side of mainland Greece, a very long drive away.We arrived in Ios in early June 1996. I knew a lot of people there from previous years. I got some work after a week or so. This time, I was working security in a liquor store with a crazy guy from Manchester who used to deal Acid and Ecstasy to the customers. The liquor store was called "The Mad Dog Off License" the customer used to sit outside and get wasted before they hit up the clubs, all sorts of crazy shit went on outside the Mad Dog. The owner was a pretty wild middle aged Greek woman who I think just employed us to drink and play backgammon with her all night. It was perfect. Drink whatever you wanted, get paid and play backgammon. Doug got a job in Disco 69 where I had worked the previous year and Tim never worked .We spent three months on Ios living in a camper van with no air conditioning. Some nights we'd have up to 20 people partying in the van till the early hours of the morning. The van was a meeting spot for most of our friends on the Island. It used to get so hot inside. We used to buy bottles of ice water and put them under our pillows when we went to sleep to keep us from melting :) We'd wake up sweating and hung-over. O Man, It was brutal, but it was fun.A few of our friends lived way up in the village. It was party central. I remember one time they had a BBQ and a Brazilian friend of ours made some caipirinha (A Brazilian Punch)and poured it into three different buckets, two buckets were pure caipirinha and one was mixed with Acid. They never told anyone till after it was all drunk. You can only imagine how crazy things got. I remember one Irish guy dancing on top of a bar table in the middle of the village six hours after the buckets were emptied in a pair of speedo shorts screaming at the top of his lungs. I seriously thought he had lost it, but he came around before the night was out, thank god.When the season ended, about ten of us headed to Turkey. Although I didn't have much money, my friend Doug who would sell ice to the Eskimos assured me we'd be fine. We can sell jewelry on the beaches to other tourists he said. Again, I said "F#*k it, I'm in."After a few days in Turkey, we found a jewelry wholesaler and with the little money we had, we bought some cheap jewelry (Indian and Turkish silver) and sold it out of a backgammon box to other tourists. At first I had a hard time selling to anyone, and then I wouldn't even try selling. I'd just introduce myself to tourists on the beach, offer them a game of backgammon and a joint and tell them my travel story and plans and at the end of the game 80% of them bought something. I wish I kept a journal because I met so many cool people. After a month travelling through Turkey, we decided to check out Israel. We got some cheap flights from Turkey to Israel and ended up in a hostel in downtown Tel Aviv. I got a job laying sprinkler systems in an apartment complex with some guys from New Zealand and Sweden who we were also travelling with us. After we saved some more cash, we travelled to Sinai in Egypt. Sinai was beautiful, super inexpensive and some of the best snorkeling in the world. We detoxed there for a month before sailing up the river Nile on a felucca boat for a week. It was amazing. We used to have to jump off the boat while moving with a rope tied around our waist to have a wash. You'd get sick if you washed in still water because there was so much bacteria in the water. We'd set up camp at night next to the river. We'd have some dinner and then smoke out. It was bliss. Enough of the Middle East, next stop was Amsterdam.This adventure of my life thought me it's best not to push a hard sale on someone. You're best off building a relationship with someone first, building rapport. Even if it's only 20 minutes over a joint and game of backgammon it's a lesson I still hold close today"Something I also learned is that. Saying yes, opens up opportunities. It just takes a little courage to make the leap. So long as you keep your eye on the goal, you'll be fine.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15503101-chapter-5-promoting-night-clubs-in-greece-what-a-job2015-03-15T19:09:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:45-08:00Chapter 5 - Promoting Night Clubs In Greece, What A JobGerry KellyAfter a year back in Dublin working and dreaming of getting back to Greece, I finally saved up enough money to get my flight back and some spending money. The word had spread around our neighborhood about the crazy times a few of us had the year before so a few others guys and girls decided to join us. We arrived back on the Island of Ios in June 1995. This time, we flew directly to London and got a connecting flight from Heathrow Airport to Athens Greece. It was still a bit of a journey, but nothing like the year before and of course we had saved some cash going through London.

On this second trip to Greece, I went with a complete lunatic from my neighborhood, Liam Scully. His nick name was "The Liamo." He was infamous around our area. He was nuts, a bit older than most of my friends and one of his arms was paralyzed from a drunken motor bike accident, but he could still roll a joint with one hand. I always had a great laugh with him and there was no better man for a session. I gotta respect him. He didn't give two shits what anyone thought about him. He'd argue with his own shadow. If you got on well with him, he was cool, but if you didn't, things got real awkward. He drank like a fish and smoked like a chimney. I remember meeting other guys who used to act all macho saying that they hadn't stopped drinking since they got to Greece. He used to say, "I haven't stopped drinking since the world cup," he'd pause for a second and then specify "1990" and he meant it. He'd start the day off with about 3-4 one liter bottles of Merry Down cider, a bottle of wine or two and then move on to a bottle of cheap Greek vodka, sometimes two. The Liamo could drink. He was also a pool shark and used to swindle people regularly. The more he drank, the better he got.

I used to have to break up arguments all the time with "The Liamo" and whomever he didn't get on with, which was quite a lot of people. I think I learnt a lot about people skills from my many encounters with people who had got in arguments with Liamo. One thing that really stuck with me was, never talk politics or religion when travelling. Something my friend never stopped talking about, I saw so many arguments start over that.

The word around Ios was that all the locals were all trying to rip you off, which I gotta admit was pretty true, but not everyone was out to rob you. So you had to be super careful doing any dealings with the locals and anyone else for that matter.

I had heard about a really cool 5 bed house on the Island for rent. It was half way between the town and beach. It was perfect. It was a palace compared to most of the rooms that the locals were renting. Everyone kept saying the guy who owns it was dodgy and to stay away from him. I took a look at the house and thought we gotta have it. It was perfect for a group of Irish guys and some crazy English girls we had met on the party scene. So a friend of ours got us in contact with Yannis "the owner." I heard he was a bit of a drinker so I brought him a bottle of Metaxa, Greek Brandy. It turned out that he could speak perfect English and was super cool and had studied architecture in England and had spent some time in Ireland and really liked the Irish. He just had so many bad experiences in the past with others renting his house, that he was very hesitant to rent to anyone. I ended up spending half the day with him drinking the Metaxa and getting to know him. In the end, we got the lease on the house, which turned out amazing. One thing I learnt from that was always go into a business meeting with an open mind and look for the best in people, don't be so quick to judge anyone.

I ended up getting a promoter job with "The Liamo" for a club called "Disco 69." We used to get three thousand Greek Dramacka (no Euro's back then) a night and as much drink as we wanted. We'd work from approx 9pm till about 2am and then go to a rave called the Sound Factory and meet up with all the other workers there who had also just finished work. This place was bananas. It closed around 7am and then we'd regularly have parties back at our house. People used to dance on the roof, dance on the balcony, dance all over the house, it was mental! I l loved it. Some people used to stay up all night and then head straight to the beach from our house. We'd often find people asleep on our roof in the middle of the day, who had fallen asleep drunk with no sun block on and would wake up hungover with major sunburn. Our house was pretty well known around the Island.Work at Disco 69 was perfect. It paid our rent, food and a small bit left over for whatever else we wanted. Our job was to stand at the door and hustle people into the club. Entrance was 500 drackma which entitled you to one free drink. We used to shut the curtains and have the DJ turn the music up full blast, some cheesy top 40 stuff. We'd tell guys that there was a few sexy drunk women inside. The owners used to employ a few crazy girls we knew to look sexy, get drunk and flirt with customers so by the time the first people had come in and drank half their super strong cheap cocktails we'd hustle a few more folks in. The place used to get packed out and we'd take turns leaving the door and having drinks in other clubs that were next to us.

Despite the perks, I left Disco 69 because I didn't like the owners. The owners of the club didn't like Israeli's coming in as they didn't drink anymore than one drink and they used to dance as if they were in a mosh pit, which would frighten most of the women and make them leave. So they told Liamo not to let any Israeli's in, which he gladly enforced. The word spread around the Island like wild fire, some folks laughed about it and some thought it was disgraceful. It got really awkward when Israelis would come up to the door and Liamo would refuse them. Mind you, after that, the place used to stay busy all night.

I left Disco 69 not long after that and got a job in a bar called "The West Club." It was a free for all. The owner was super cool but didn't have enough money to pay the staff in the beginning so he'd pay us with drink. There was about 6 girls and 6 guys working there. I met some really fun folks from all over the world working there. I had plans to leave there and go travelling to Turkey and Israel but I was broke and got word that I had failed my Diploma in Legal Studies and had to repeat it. I really didn't want to go home to repeat it, but I wanted to keep my mum happy as she really wanted me to get the Diploma. So I packed up at the end of the season and went back to Ireland.Something that I learned on that trip was that I was a natural promoter and that I had "people skills" too. I also learned that where there is a will, there's a way and the path to that goal is part of the fun.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15503089-chapter-4-a-trip-to-greece-that-changed-my-life-forever2015-02-12T19:03:00-08:002017-02-22T11:12:45-08:00Chapter 4 - A Trip To Greece that Changed My Life ForeverGerry KellyAfter hearing all the crazy travel stories from the Aussie & Kiwi guys at Cafe en Seine and from my good friends older brother I had no choice but to rally the troops and book our first holiday to Greece, there were four of us.

Obviously we wanted to get there for as cheap as possible, so we booked a return flight off the teletext (an advertisement on the TV, no internet or Expedia back then) from Gatwick Airport in London to Athens Greece. We got an amazing price, the only challenge was, we had to make our own way to Gatwich Airport, which was just outside London. So we booked a Ferry from Dublin, Ireland to Hollyhead in Wales and got a train from Wales to London. Fuck - we must have been nuts, we got a 6am Ferry and within a half an hour of departure we were in Duty Free buying the cheapest bottles of whisky and Vodka we could find. After a brutal 4 hour ferry crossing from Ireland to Wales, and an 8 hour train ride from Wales to London, we arrived in Victoria Street Station London wasted on cheap whisky and Vodka. We had no idea how busy London was. It was nuts! People running in all angles. There were blacks, whites, Indians and Asian's... This was completely new for us. In Ireland in 1994, it was hard to find a Black, Asian or Indian guy. I remember one time walking down Grafton Street (one of the busiest Streets in Ireland) in Dublin with my mum and she pointing out a group of Indian guys to me. "Gerard quick, look over there." (To be honest, I think it was half novelty and she was half afraid.)

By the time we arrived in Gatwick Airport, we were even more wasted. My good friend Jeff thought it was a good idea to mix our travel sickness tablets with the Whisky & Vodka from the Duty Free, and I agreed with him. (He was right, it worked).We still had a 6 hour wait in Gatwick Airport, which we spent in the departure lounge drinking, then a 4 hour flight to Athens, Greece, and then finally a 7 hour ferry to the Island of Paros. After our insane journey to Paros, we arrived extremely hungover, hot & sweaty. It was the hottest weather all of us had ever experienced... about 90 degrees. We were greeted by about 100 locals all trying to get our business and stay in their rooms, after some weak negotiating we got a room in some old guys apartment, 4 of us in one small room. He had clearly seen that we were newbies and ripped us off. I guess it's all part of the journey, to be honest we were so tired and hungover we didn't care all we wanted was a bed and a shower.

We spent the next two weeks partying it up with guys and girls from all over the world. We met some really interesting people, I sat spell bound listening to other travelers talk about their amazing adventures. I got to meet some cool guys who were selling t-shirts and jewelry on the beaches, it blew me away, these guys were travelling the world and funding it through selling merchandise on the beach, how amazing was that. Suddenly, a light bulb went off, I had a vision. That was my ticket to travel the world.

After that 2 weeks in Greece, I came back to Ireland with a new perspective on life. I got my old job back in Cafe en Seine and had one goal in mind "to save as much money as possible so I could go back to Greece and spend the whole Summer there. One thing that I learned from this early experience, is that if you have a goal and you're hell bent on seeing it through, you can achieve it. It just takes a bit of creativity and a certain knowledge of where you want to go and a lot of action.

Cheers Gerry :)

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15503077-chapter-3-my-early-years-of-work-and-still-more-school2014-12-22T19:01:00-08:002017-02-22T11:12:45-08:00Chapter 3 - My Early Years of Work and Still More SchoolGerry Kelly
So the road to building my own company and beginning to realize I needed to be my own boss, like many others, came to fruition while working for someone else. From these early experiences, I learned a bit of what I wanted to do, but more importantly, what I didn't want to do in my own business.

After leaving "Rathmines Tech" and now armed with my "Certificate in Business & Computer Studies," I got a commission-only sales job selling advertisement space for some under rated education magazine over the phone. We worked out of a small office on the second floor of some dingy building on Rathmines Road in Dublin and I was assigned to a small cubicle which felt like a prison cell. The owner of the magazine would lock the main office door when we were onsite to protect us from all the unhappy customers. I only found this out when some guy came banging on the door looking for his money back and the boss wouldn't let him in. It was crazy. I looked out the spy hole and some big country lad was standing behind the door shouting in a thick country Irish accent "Ya Dirty Scamming Bitch gimme me money back .....". After about 20 minutes of shouting back and forth, he left the building and we went back to work.... Thank God for that. This was my first interaction with a very unsatisfied customer. (Note to self: Not what I want.)

The business model of her company was for us to cold call existing customers from the Yellow Pages and talk them back into buying more ad space in our publication. Then we'd repeat their own very same advertisement back to them, as if we had just made it up and attempt to resell it to them. This was pre internet days. I did my time & sold a few ad spaces, but not enough to keep me in drinking money and the boss was a pain in the arse and very dodgy, so I left.

Then my good friend Chris got me a job working with him in the kitchen of a pretty cool/fancy bar & restaurant in Dublin called 'Cafe en Seine'. It was a very successful, up & coming trendy bar in downtown Dublin. I recall speaking to one of the owners about how he got to own the place and he advised me of his favorite motto which was "Keep It Simple & Start Small." He told me he just did what he knew: "stick to the knitting...stick to what you know..."

This was the Summer of 1993. Dublin was entering the Celtic Tiger and kids had money. It's always about the timing! Cafe en Seine ended up being the trendiest bar in Dublin. At that time, it was the place to be and to be seen.The staff were amazing and lots of fun. There were girls and guys from all over Ireland and lots of students and even some travelers from Australia & New Zealand. They were all in their early 20's, using the place as a stepping stone onto something else. At the time, none of us knew where the next steps where, but I loved it. It suited me perfect. I was washing dishes with my buddy, getting drunk and talking smack with guys & girls in the kitchen and bar. I got 4 pounds ($7) an hour, which was pretty amazing for a kitchen porter job back then. Plus, I got free food and drink of course.

At the same time, I enrolled as a mature student in an evening course in another college, the Dublin Institute of Technology: "DIT Aungier Street." I would graduate with a two year diploma in Legal Studies, another course to keep my mum happy.

Something I learned from these early experiences were, although you might have a successful business financially in the short term, you want to do it by making customers happy. Your legacy will live on and people will remember. Also, doing what you enjoy is always best and it usually involves other happy people, always start small but have a big vision.

Until next time........

Gerry, Christine, G Pup]]>
https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15485917-chapter-2-schools-out-thank-god-for-that2014-11-12T02:03:00-08:002017-02-22T11:12:46-08:00Chapter 2 - School's out - Thank God For That :)Gerry KellyAfter leaving school in 1992 and doing terrible in my leaving cert exams (similar to your A level's or high school final exams) I talked my way into a local college called " The Rathmines Tech" this place was not your typical college or university. A lot of people were there to repeat their leaving cert exams or just there to do a one year course that didn't require a high grade level or they were there just to waste a year and figure out what they wanted to do with their lives.

Either way, no one really gave a F*$K. I enrolled into a computer and business studies class. To be honest I had actually no interest in ever going to college or taking a course but my mum always wanted me to get a certificate or diploma in something. She always said, "That's one thing that can never be taken away from you" Word of wisdom from my mother, thanks Mum :)I didn't think that I'd be accepted, because I had failed my leaving cert but somehow I talked my way in or the professors/teachers at the admission desk felt sorry for me, either way I got in :)I have no idea how I did it, but I passed the one year course and came out with a Certificate in "Business and Computers Studies". Not bad considering I still had no idea how to work a computer or had any business skills whatsoever. Mind you, I did meet some great people there, and we ended up spending most of our time in a bar called "Streets" in Rathmines, drinking cider, smoking cigarettes, and talking shit with other students from other colleges nearby who were also skipping class.

Cheers Guys, till next time :)

Gerry Kelly :)

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15485173-chapter-1-where-i-came-from2014-09-30T01:05:00-07:002017-02-22T11:12:46-08:00Chapter 1 - Where I Came FromGerry KellyI grew up in a suburb in Dublin called Templeogue. Our family is your typical Irish family. My mum's from the country and my dad's from Dublin. I have two sisters who I get on with very well, and who have great families. When we were growing up, my mum worked as a nurse and my dad worked two jobs: one as a taxi driver and one as a school teacher in a prison. My dad also studied law at the same time, and when he passed his exams, he became a full time lawyer. He told me that he found it very sad that he would meet lots of young guys in the prison who wouldn't have been there if they had proper representation. That inspired him to study law and become a lawyer.

Some nights when we were very young and my mum was working the night shift in the hospital, my dad would drive my two sisters and I around in the passenger seat of his taxi while collecting fares. To say the least, my dad's the hardest working man that I have ever met and the only person that I have ever met that never got sick. I must say that I think my parents had a huge role in shaping my personality to know I could do whatever I wanted. They were living examples of being hard working, do it yourself, make-what-you-want type of people. Without their example, I wouldn't have the underlying belief in myself that I have today.To get back to my youth, I had a thing for jeans and my mum would tell me that I always had great fashion sense. When we went shopping together when I was a kid, I always picked my own clothing and was complimented by the sales assistants on my picks. Growing up in the 80's in Dublin, Levis 501's were huge. In fact they were so big that sometimes people would steal the jeans off your washing line, seriously.I had a great childhood and still have lots of amazing friends with whom I went to school and grew up with. I must admit I never liked school, I always seemed to get in trouble for day dreaming and having too much fun. Crazy when you think about it.My first job was a milk round when I was 14 with my friend Keith. We collected the milk money every Thursday and Friday for years and also stole Xmas trees and sold them outside our local church at Xmas time. My teenage years were spent 1) drinking cheap vodka, cider and beer, 2) going to local disco's, 3) terrorizing our neighborhood, 4) dreaming about travelling the world.

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https://sonasdenim.com/blogs/personal-blog/15485129-irish-entrepreneur-on-a-mission-to-build-the-sexiest-best-fitting-most-stylish-denim-brand-in-the-world2014-09-24T00:59:00-07:002017-08-17T11:01:59-07:00Irish Entrepreneur On A Mission To Build A Compassionate, Free Spirited, Global Lifestyle Fashion BrandGerry Kelly
My name's Gerry Kelly, I'm an Entrepreneur from Dublin, Ireland and the founder and CEO of Sonas Denim, a sexy, unique fashion forward denim company that was founded at Burning Man. For the past 3 years I've put my heart and soul into building the next great denim company. I won't deny it, it's the toughest endeavor I have ever started, but I have made a vow to myself and many other amazing people who have helped me along this journey so far, that I'm going to take it all the way to completion, and I'm a man of my word

I've done a few tough things in the past such as finishing an Iron man Triathlon, running 150 miles across the Sahara desert in 120 degree's heat with all my clothing and food on my back, just to name a few, but holy @#!%, the fashion business is a different animal.

Speaking of animals, my wife Christine has spent the last seventeen years saving dogs from death row and is actively working towards building her own Animal Sanctuary in California. So for every pair of jeans we sell we donate a portion of our net profits to my wife's non-profit - see www.possumswelcome.org for more information

Anyway, back to my story, I love a Challenge and I've even made up my own quote "As long as i'm breathing, I'll never quit" Gerry Kelly 2011

I have no background in fashion whatsoever, I used to work in construction than I was a bar tender and then I jumped on the real estate bandwagon and lost my ass and now i'm in the fashion arena.

If you want to read my story, stay tuned, I'll be posting a blog every few weeks, telling you where I came from, my journey to the US and all the do's and don'ts (which I have learnt through trial and error) and my personal journey from idea to opening a store and getting my jeans worn by some of the hottest celebrities in Hollywood. All grass roots my friends, no big marketing budget here, just yet.

Cheers & Sonas

I look forward to connecting with you all

GerryP.S. That's me with my amazing supportive wife and 9 month old son Gerry Jnr and one of our many unique jeans.